#Danny watches Shadows in an Empty Room

[spockvarietyhour]

I know there's an internet contingent out there that would offer the same smouldering looks if Martin Landau gave them water

[phantomrose96]

Prometheus

content warnings: horror. body horror. ghost show can have a little existential horror, as a treat! :)

...

Tucker and Danny sat as silhouettes in the Foley attic rec-room.

The ghoulish light of the television pinned their shadows against the back wall, pulsing in and out like fireflies at each flash of the screen. It left their backs drenched in darkness, and it made monoliths of the old furniture and piled-high boxes that wrapped the perimeter of the attic. Drafty air whistled through the gaps in the insulation. Plicks and flicks of moths beat in tone against the light of the television where the seal of the attic window failed to keep them out. Danny hounded the controller in his hands, clackering with each frenetic beat of his thumb while he mashed his buttons and leaned his full bodyweight into the assault he wrought, virtually until--

“BOOM!! Headshot!” Danny yelled with a pump of his fist. From his nonexistent peripheral vision, he could not see the way Tucker would not look at him.

“Come on, man,” Tucker said.

“Get it?” Danny asked.

“Dude, come on, like… Maybe don’t.”

Danny let out a disappointed huff of air from his nostril, spirits dampened. The wayward glow of his eye settled back on the screen: Victory blazoned across his split of the screen. You Died pulsed on Tucker’s. Danny mashed the rematch option. “Maybe get good then,” Danny said, “and then you get to make the bad puns.”

“Sorry man look I’m just—tired okay?”

“Yeah I know—”

“You can be goofy about it tomorrow—”

“I know—”

“I promise it’ll be hilarious then just—”

“Okay okay, I get it. I’ll save the jokes—”

“How much longer?”

“Hmm?”

Danny looked, and Tucker was looking now too, and it was taking all concentrated will on Tucker’s face to keep looking.

“How much longer until you’re like… You know.”

4am chimed from the grandfather clock stowed in the Foley attic. The ghostly sheen of the television splashed bright and pallid across the right side of Tucker’s face, as he stared at Danny. And it splashed bright across the left side of Danny’s face, which was the only side of Danny’s face remaining.

“I don’t know like… maybe 3 more hours, I think?” A lisp whistled from the absent flesh of his jawbone.

Tucker watched his lips. And his eyes drifted to the shadow carved dark and empty in the socket that could no longer see him, a merciful concealment of where skin turned to raw exposed flesh turned to bone.

Tucker looked forward again, and he mashed his thumbs into his own controller. Danny’s character’s skull exploded into a cloud of meat-rain before Danny had the chance to notice the match resume.

“Fine. I can do 3 more hours,” Tucker said. “And start watching your head.”

…

It wasn’t until the camping trip 4 months ago that Danny knew anything was strange.

It was a yearly Fenton tradition, which Danny tolerated and Jazz dreaded, to haul the four of them and the RV out into some swampy campground 3 hours from home. They’d roll in roaring, RV stuffed to the brim with wilderness equipment and enough mechanical monstrosities to scare away all actual wildlife. All except for the fish, who had the disadvantage of not seeing the mechanical affront to God parked with questionable legality on the campgrounds.

This year, Danny had decided he was embracing it. Because for the first time, sitting grubby and wet in the mud for 3 days sounded much nicer than his typical weekend plans, which was mainly getting his ass kicked by ghosts. He’d flagged down Valerie a week ahead of time to tell her, between gunshots, that he’d be absent for those 3 days. Valerie had taken equal offence at the request that she pick up Phantom’s slack, and the implication that she wasn’t already doing that.

But it meant the ghosts were covered for the weekend, and it meant Danny was free to do nothing more exciting than sit in the mud, which was all well and good enough for Danny. Although his hopes of leaving the weekend with the same number of scars he started with were dashed by hour 5. It was his own fault too. Jack had insisted Danny gut the fish Jack caught via a blast of the Fenton Disintegrator to the lake (unconventional, not even a fishing device, a ghost weapon he and Maddie were fine-tuning. A ranger came and yelled at them about it.) And while distracted by his parents getting told off for being menaces, Danny miscalculated the slipperiness of both fish and knife.

Luckily the RV was, among many many things, a hospital on wheels, and Jazz had quit sulking long enough to take a morbid fascination in cleaning Danny’s palm out with antiseptic that burned like acid and bandaging up his palm. For dinner that night, Danny ate his open-flame grilled fish with a little more prejudice than usual.

By Saturday, his hand hadn’t healed. Nor by Sunday. And on Sunday evening while Maddie and Jack busied themselves with packing up the tent they’d both invented and yet struggled to collapse back into its box, Danny flagged Jazz with quiet urgency.

“I think there’s something wrong with my hand.”

“Wrong how?”

“Infected, maybe.”

Jazz knit her brow in concern. “It looked fine this morning,” she muttered as she pulled Danny down onto the stump beside her and flipped open the First Aid kit latch. She unraveled Danny’s bandage layer by layer, and the concerned knit to her brow loosened to confusion.

“It looks fine. It’s barely even red.”

Danny snatched his hand back. “Yeah, and it’s barely healed at all.”

“I mean, it’s healed a little bit.”

“Yeah but. Barely.”

“It looks pretty normal.”

“Jazz my day-job is getting whacked with ghost machetes,” Danny said, tone growing a little tense at Jazz’s lack of concern. “I know how quickly cuts are supposed to heal.”

“And how quickly is that?”

“I mean. It depends. But like a day.”

“A day?”

“Or maybe 25 hours, I guess.”

“Danny, you cut yourself pretty deep.”

“26 hours max, literally.”

Jazz was staring. Danny felt awkwardly judged.

“Hey um, as a question Danny, do you remember the last injury you got before your ghost powers?”

Danny hesitated. He racked his brain and some part of him felt a little embarrassed how hard he had to search, as if it were shameful to have been so delicately uninjured before this whole thing.

“…Dash, maybe. But Dash it good at the kind of quick jabby punches that hit your nerve but don’t bruise.”

“Anything else?”

Danny fell quiet. Then brightened. “I fell off my bike last year. Racing Tucker. Scraped up my shin and knee.”

“And how long did that take to heal?”

The delight faded a bit. Danny thinned his lips thinking. “…Maybe a while.”

“Probably a few weeks.”

“Jeez, really? No.” Danny said. And he so deeply wanted to be offended, because he’d become the biggest expert in the family on getting his skin used as a ghost shrapnel canvas, which should make him the authority on injury healing. And Jazz was doubting all of that. “No. That’d heal in like. A day.”

“Maybe with ghost powers,” Jazz answered. “Maybe in ghost form. Which, currently and for the last 3 days, you have not been in.”

Danny fell quiet. He considered this information that deeply annoyed him until, with grudgingness edging to acceptance, he looked at his hand, and then his sister, and then his hand.

“….Oh.”

That night, home and showered and with the clock creeping toward 1am, Danny sat on his bed. He pooled his hands in his lap, lit by the moonlight pouring through his bedroom window. He sat an inch above his bed, in fact, hair shimmery white and his right glove removed. In the wash of moonlight he watched his palm. And there was something haunting, almost, in the way he could see the edges of the cut stitch themselves back together bit by tiniest bit. He lost himself in a grainy infomercial on his television, and when it ended, his cut was gone.

…

Phantom returned to the ghost fighting scene with an unwarranted new confidence. In truth nothing had changed. But Danny operated now with the knowledge that he was a particular kind of resilient that he’d not actually realized before. And while he did not like getting fileted by Skulker’s ghost gut-hook knife, or seared by Ember’s flame guitar, or bonked in the head by Fenton Bolas (Dad why), there was a certain delight in the “This will all not be a problem by tomorrow”-ness of it all.

Even better, he now knew that just idling in ghost mode for an extra hour or two was all it took to be right as rain again. (“This is making your Gameboy addiction worse than Tucker’s,” Sam had commented. “Well how else am I supposed to pass the time?” Danny asked while mashing buttons with one less finger than usual. “You could read a book.”)

On the flipside, it did make Danny grouchier about mid-school-day attacks, which didn’t afford him the luxury of floating around to bake in ghost mode for an hour or two watching bad tv. And unless Mr. Lancer got real chill real fast with Danny Phantom taking Danny Fenton’s English tests, it meant that any school-time fight injury had to be dealt with conventional human-style, and super-healed after school.

And Danny carried this knowledge with more bitterness than usual one fall afternoon when a fight with Technus had already gouged into the first 15 minutes of his math test, and now Danny was going to have to suck it up for the last 45 minutes if he wanted to pass geometry this quarter. Which was bullshit because that last blast Technus got on him had really fucking hurt.

Danny landed, and in his math-induced funk, he missed the particular wide-eyed way Sam and Tucker stared at him. “Here,” Danny said, handing off the thermos to Tucker, and Danny let his human transformation slip through in rings around his sternum.

“Danny stop,” Sam said, and with an urgent breathlessness that froze Danny in place. “Do not turn back.”

Confusion seeped into Danny’s blood. He let the transformation rings fade away, and he felt the thermos heavy in his outstretched hand that Tucker would not take. Heavy and wet. Heavy, and very very wet.

He looked at his hand, and his white glove was unrecognizable beneath the saturation of red. The thermos dropped from his hand, and suddenly Danny wasn’t so sure which direction was up.

“Sit,” Sam maybe said, or said something like it. Her hands were on his shoulders. He was easing in a direction that was probably down. His butt hit cold pavement. And suddenly he raked in a shuddering breath which was wet as mud.

Sam was pulling away the top of his suit, which was the worst possible place for her to do that considering how much it hurt. She was pulling right where Technus had blasted him, and Danny had half a mind to tell her off until he saw what was underneath the fabric.

“That’s not good,” he bubbled out through a lot of blood in his mouth and throat.

Baseball-sized. Like someone had taken a very large hole-puncher right to his sternum. A very good hole-puncher because it had in fact punched him straight through and run off with the little cut-out it stole. Globby flesh spilled to fill in some of the empty space. But a solid chunk of sternum, and heart, and lung, and spine, were rudely elsewhere.

Danny was in a very slippery wet dream, and his fluttering eyes agreed.

“No,” Sam said with an unnecessarily aggressive pinch of his skin. “Absolutely do not fall asleep.”

“Ow,” Danny said, maybe about the pinch but also his missing organs.

This wasn’t good enough for Sam who was a little bit ghost-shaded herself while she grabbed both Danny’s ears tight and angled Danny’s eyes to hers. “If you turn human now that’s going to be very very bad. You’re fine, Danny. You’re just in shock, I think. Focus on me. Come on, count with me Danny. 1. 2.”

“Isn’t counting sheep supposed to put you to sleep?” Danny quipped, but all the blood gurgling maybe ruined his delivery a little.

…

His heart sewed itself back together in 20 minutes. His esophagus and trachea kindly followed at the 27-minute mark, the last of the tubage knitting itself together and forming the correct kind of air-seal against anything else in his chest cavity. That was a blessing, because passing the time was easier when he could talk without re-enacting the elevator from The Shining – a joke Danny had tried to deliver several times and which refused to land.

And while he still did not have his new spine vertebrae nor sternum by the 30-minute mark, Danny could see the way the last of the white fear had left Sam’s face and the way Tucker could now face him directly. And that told him that however he looked, he no longer looked like someone who was going to die.

By the 1-hour mark, Danny sat drenched in his own blood from a fatal wound that no longer existed. And he’d missed his math test.

…

Super healing was cool. Very cool. What other kind of power lets you just walk away from fatal injuries?

At the close of a ghost fight, thermos capped, swimming in the eerie silence of a street cleared of screams, Danny stood. And he shivered. He ran his hands up and down his stomach, his chest, his back his face, pressing any pain-point to discover if his fingers would sink in wet and deep. Was it safe to transform back? If he made a mistake, would he notice fast enough? Would he be able to turn back again in time?

Alone in the snow of the Amity golf course. The roof of the mall. The back archives of the library. Danny lingered. Many places were good for lingering, and so Danny would linger, wherever and whenever he could. It made that held-breath feeling of transforming back easier, to know no part of him was at risk of undoing him.

And sometimes his hand did come away sticky. And in the black of night Danny went home, mindful to step only on the kitchen tile from which blood could be wiped up cleanly. And he was tired from too many nights of this when he pulled cereal from the cupboard and splashed milk into a bowl and cleared away the nuts and bolts from the half-undressed Fenton Disintegrator (undergoing v2 upgrades) and flickered the noxious glow of the muted television to life while his liver stitched itself back together. The tremble would not quite leave his cereal spoon hand but he’d manage.

One night Walker had blasted off half of Danny’s skull. And he lay shaking hunched on the pavement willing himself to overcome the pangs of shock radiating through his body until he had enough composure to call Tucker on the phone and ask if he could come over, if they could play Man vs. Zombie maybe, and stay awake through the night while his brain matter remade itself.

One night he had to grab Valerie by the ankle before she flew off, and she probably only heeded him because the break in Phantom’s superhero bravado unnerved her so much. “Please just stay and talk to me. Something bad will happen if I fall asleep,” he said, while holding the parts that used to be his stomach. “Define ‘bad.’” “I’ll die.” “Sounds like a human.” She shouldn’t have taken pity on him. But she did. Maybe because she was a human who would die like Danny if left on the pavement with her stomach open. Valerie stayed until the sun rose.

And he was lucky, because as a human he should have died. And Danny didn’t. He just came close, more and more and more. Until the sight of a raised ghost weapon forced a very human flinch from him.

…

“…losing an edge, you’d say, Craig?” “Not exactly. As a psychiatrist who’s worked with many veterans and active-duty soldiers, it’s common to—”

“Morning,” Jack said, flipping up his welding mask just long enough to nod to Danny before re-busying himself in his soldering.

“Dad, do you think maybe you could do that in the lab?” Jazz asked over a bowl of cornflakes, with a tone one might use when asking a 10-year-old to move his basketball game outside.

“Hmm, why? The table won’t catch fire.”

“Which is what you said last time,” Jazz said, carefully plucking up a cooled bit of metal scrap from beside her cereal bowl.

“…ffered many fatal injuries on camera, who knows how many weren’t capt—”

The television drowned beneath the screech of Jack’s welding, let up to breathe for moments at a time before Jack resumed the drowning. Danny’s eyes followed. The refurbished Fenton Disintegrator had nearly reformed, bigger than its original body, with a gaping fish-mouth twice the radius of the thing which had blasted up the fish in the campground lake.

“I just think, Dad, that you and Mom have a whooooole laboratory basement to yourselves, and I have just this one dining table to eat cereal at, so—”

“But then you kids would miss out on what I’m making. See, Danny’s interested. Danny, watch this—”

Jack hoisted the monster up. He hitched it atop his shoulder, and set his eye behind its sight, and twisted at the hip to point its open maw directly at Danny.

Danny froze.

“Dad, Jesus, at least show some trigger-discipline if you’re—Danny?”

Danny could not move. He could not move or really see. The shockwave rippled through him, and he believed for the moment that surely he’d been shot until Jazz shook him. “Danny, are you okay?”

Danny’s heart was intact but still it squeezed like it had been ripped. His legs were whole but they were numb beneath him. And he was useless too. Over what? Over nothing. Over a gun pointed at him, the sort which had been pointed at him 4,000 times before.

“…Danny?” Jazz asked, more worried than before. Jack had put down the gun, and he was staring at Danny in the same way.

And it was stupid. So very stupid. Because Danny had super-healing, and a hit from something like that would heal. It could rip him apart, and he’d be completely fine.

So it was all actually incredibly incredibly stupid that he was somehow, without even meaning to, crying.

…

The fight had ended three hours ago. And three hours was longer than only the worst of his injuries took to heal. Tonight had not been bad at all, just a bit of ripping and tearing at his leg from a bear-trap Skulker had laid (despite Skulker insisting he did not know what a bear was). And that had healed up in 20 minutes flat.

Danny lingered anyway, sitting soaking cold in the snow on the golf course. He liked that it was high-up here. He liked that the lights fanned far and wide. He liked that the razed-flat golf turf allowed nothing to hide. He wiled away the hours he ought to be sleeping, because there was a security in consciousness, in his ghost form. If he slept, he could be killed. And if he sat resting in ghost form on the crest of the golf course hill, he could not.

But he could nod off. Catching his head at each dip. But his mind fizzled and faded, rubbing against the staticky edge of sleep, enough to perhaps not notice steps in the snowfall that tracked him to where he sat.

The whir of the charging gun kicked him to high alert.

All alert, all at once, so suddenly adrenaline soaked that Danny had no sense of orientation when he spun on spot and his eyes drank in the sight of the barrel-mouth breathing to life in his direction.

“Told you I fixed the calibration on this, Honey.”

“Well at least it’s not a fish.”

Stop, Danny wanted to say. But he was paralyzed. He was dread. He was stone.

It screeched. And it roared. And with a connection of a car crash, it took greedily for itself a gibbous moon of Danny’s torso.

He collapsed. Eyes spinning. Ears ringing. Sensation like fire and like ice and like buzzing static and nothing, feeling, at all to connect to his legs.

Stop, Danny wanted to say. But he needed a mouth for that. So the second blast connected.

…

It had been an amount of time. Jack and Maddie Fenton may have stooped in the snow and collected samples to study. Danny could not know, because he’d need eyes to know. They may have crunched with their boots and mused about the resilience of ecto-flesh, more resilient than fish-flesh. Danny could not know, because he’d need ears to know. They may have picked him up piece-meal and carried him in their pockets. Danny could not know. Not without touch.

He may have been on the golf course. He may not have been. There was no ‘where’ Danny could know. He needed his proprioception for that.

There was was. There was something Danny hoped was be. This was, Danny hoped, awake. This was the only awake he could be without a brain. And if this was awake, how long could he last? And if this was awake, was it enough to heal again?

Super healing was cool. It saved you from death. But maybe not always.

Was time passing…? Was the snow cold. Was the wind blowing. Was the hilltop white under pooling lights. Was it. And did it. And was he and did he.

Was time passing?

Surely, it had been just an eternity, by now. An eternity at least.

Or had it been only one second.

Or Danny wasn’t here.

He was, though. He had to exist to feel what he felt in the moment. He had to exist even if he was deprived of the mouth needed to scream the agony that was, in its entirety, him.

…

Sun glazed the snow on the east bank of the golf course down to a slushy sheen by 10am the next morning. Mitted, in snow boots, three trespassers combed the 18 holes of Amity Park Golf Course.

“Are you sure it’s this one?” Sam asked, voice hoarse with a question that had been repeated once an hour for the last three hours between heaving breaths of clearing snow.

“It has to be this one. They said golf course there’s only one golf course,” Jazz answered, and her hands trembled against the heel of the shovel she dug into her nearest snowbank.

“Do you see any foot prints?”

“They’re melted.”

“Well check the melted sides then!”

“We checked the melted sides.”

“Maybe we missed—”

“Guys shut up,” Tucker said, and he said it low, and he said it with lips the color of ash. He stood rooted. And his eyes shifted to the crown of the hill 30 feet to their right.

Jazz and Sam shut up. Because they heard it too.

Jazz abandoned her shovel in the snow. She ran. But Sam was faster.

And it was a noise. Long and piercing and deflating. Quiet. Then starting fresh from the top. Long and singular, like the note of a bagpipe. Sam rounded the crest of the hill. And she found the noise first.

And this close, she realized what it was. The noise was relief. Because the thing lying in the melted snow was finally enough of a mouth, and enough of a throat, and enough of a lung, to scream.

[pcr-alice]

DPxDC - The Bat Key

there were a few posts going around a bit ago about Danny being Bruce's mentor in his early years, and they planted this idea in my head. i mixed in some cryptid danny for fun and to fit the halloween vibe. also on ao3

Batman grunted in pain as he hurried down the dark, townhouse-lined sidewalk. The cloudy night blocked the moonlight, and the lamps along the entire street were out, but they still moved between the shadows under the trees. The slash wound in his side was painful to the point that he had an arm around Robin’s shoulder to prop himself up. He scowled with each grunt. At least the blade hadn’t been spiked with venom. The same couldn’t be said for Red Robin’s wound. He was barely conscious, and Nightwing had to practically carry him. But they had finally made it here.

“Door.”

Nightwing hobbled up the few steps to the small porch and leaned against the wall to help hold some of Red Robin’s weight. Robin rushed to the door, already pulling a pick set from his utility belt. Batman managed to ascend the few steps himself, double checking the 13 to the side of the door.

“Wait.”

Robin scowled once again, but he complied. Batman pulled a small strip of metal from the lining of his utility belt. The tip was cut into a jagged, hooked pattern. He slipped it behind the bat symbol on his chest from underneath and twisted it a half spin. When he slid it back out, there was a house key attached to the end. Once free, he inserted it into the deadbolt and removed his hand. The temperature immediately dropped. Batman sighed in relief.

“What are –”

Robin’s question died before it was finished as the key began glowing green. It slowly rotated itself with the sound of grinding gears until a click echoed from behind the door.

“Oh great, I’m hallucinating” Red Robin wheezed out.

Batman turned the knob and pushed the door open.

“In.”

Robin entered first, crouched and alert. Nightwing followed, Red Robin draped over his shoulders. Batman took one more look around and spotted one of their assailants across the street, staring with their two glowing yellow eyes. He held the gaze for a silent few seconds, tension slowly leaving his body as they remained deathly still, then stepped inside and closed the door.

The large circular window high above the door lit the entryway with moonlight from the clear night sky. A staircase on the left led up into the dark, its railing marking out a small hallway balcony above. To their right was a small table, empty except for an unlit lamp. Past that on the same wall was an archway that led to a dark room pierced just enough by the moonlight for a large couch to be visible. The hallways straight ahead stretched into void.

“Couch.”

Once again, Robin entered first, disappearing into the shadows to scout the room. Nightwing lugged Red Robin into the room and laid him down on the couch to examine his wound. Batman followed and watched over the back of the couch.

“Bruce.”

Robin spun and threw a knife at the voice.

His senses had been honed to perfection since as long ago as he could remember. From the age of eight the only two members of the League who were capable of sneaking up on him were his blood relations. Now that he was out, Cain was alone on that list. Not even Batman could go unnoticed. Whatever this voice was, it managed to surprise him. But the League taught him to have no weaknesses, so even if his senses failed him, his reflexes could pick up the slack. The best tutors known to man had trained him with strict discipline, instilling perfect form and pinpoint accuracy that he could replicate from a dead sleep in pitch black darkness, all before he had even formed a single thought.

All together, this meant his blade was in the air before he could even parse what was said or what tone it was said with. When he realized that the voice had called Father by his civilian name in a calm greeting, he realized he made a mistake. But luckily, the voice wasn’t injured. Nor even startled.

“Danny.” Bruce greeted back.

This Danny had caught the knife by its handle well in front of his chest with what Robin evaluated to be his off-hand. Bright blue eyes pierced through the darkness straight to his position. They glowed in the darkness despite emitting no light, almost like a cat’s but without a source to reflect. If he had to guess, this unknown was a bit older than Red Robin. A bit taller, too. His deep black hair was unkempt, as if he had just been in a windstorm, sticking up at gravity-defying angles. He wore a dark robe made of fine material, not quite up to League wear standards, but too formal for a nightgown.

Robin cautiously stepped out of the darkness toward the others. Danny’s squinted eyes followed him, head angling slightly as it rotated to track his movement. Then they flicked away to look at Nightwing and squinted further. After a scant two seconds that stretched far too long, he raised his other hand to push his sleeve up, revealing a cheap plastic Batman-themed digital watch with a bright blue rubber strap.

“Been a while, hasn’t it?” He murmured.

He pushed his sleeve further to reveal another, different watch, analog and much more elegant with a black strap most likely made of leather. It looked like something Father would wear to a gala. His eyebrows raised as he looked at it.

“Late, too.”

Batman grunted. Danny dropped his arms to his side, grip loose on the knife. He dipped his head at Damain and looked at Batman.

“My son, Damian.”

Damian tensed at the revealed information.

“He’s sharper than you were.”

“Being raised in an assassin cult will do that to you.”

Damian tensed even more despite the relaxed familiarity, almost teasing tone, that Batman fell into. Danny hummed a deep note and nodded his head toward Nightwing.

“Dick?”

“Nightwing.”

“And the one bleeding all over my couch?”

“Red Robin. Tim. Also my son, not by blood.”

Danny hummed again and lazily tossed the knife into the air toward Robin (who easily caught it, of course) as he walked to the other side of the couch. His movement made no noise whatsoever. Nightwing stepped back cautiously, positioning himself to step between Danny and Red Robin at a moment’s notice.

“What kind of poison?”

“We don’t know.”

He sat down on the edge of the couch to look down at Red Robin but paused as he was leaning down. Instead, he pushed up his sleeve again, and the watches were gone. In their place was some sort of wrist computer that took up half his forearm. The screen was covered in undecipherable text and was surrounded by several buttons marked with hieroglyphics. Robin narrowed his eyes and gripped another knife behind his cape.

“If you throw another blade, I’m confiscating all of them.”

“Stand down, Robin.”

He scowled but let go of the knife. Danny looked to Batman.

“You seem to be getting a call, Bruce. You can take it in the entryway.”

Batman nodded and walked back out the archway, tapping his comm.

“Oracle. We’re safe for now. Red Robin is being treated for poison”

Robin and Nightwing watched him go, turning back after a brief second, only to flinch into defensive stances.

The entire room had changed. It was now lit by a blazing fireplace with a large coffee table between it and the couch where Danny and Red Robin were situated. The table was covered in supplies – glass bottles with colored liquid, mason jars filled with water and fruit and herbs, bowls of nuts, trays of fruit, plates of granola balls, and stacks of labeled first aid kits.

They each stole a look back to Batman, who kept speaking over his comm, not bothered in the slightest.

“I know you can’t. Have the others pull back.”

He flashed them the hand signal for safe.

“I’ll explain when we return. Hour at most.”

They focused back on Danny to see that he had a much larger first aid kit open on the floor next to him and was skimming his fingers across Red Robin’s forehead, brushing his hair away.

“Oh, this one’s cute,” Tim slurred, and he was Tim now, his mask resting on his chest.

Danny snorted and shifted Tim’s uniform away from the slice in his side. He wiped the blood away with some bandages and tilted his head in confusion. He lifted a bloody finger to stare at it. His eyes squinted and he brought the finger up to his nose, where he gave it a sniff. A low growl vibrated through the room, and Robin gripped his knife again. Danny tapped the bloody finger to his tongue, and Robin threw his knife. Or he would have, had Batman not caught his arm.

“Well?” Batman asked.

“It’s a good thing you brought him here,” Danny responded, voice deeper than even Batman’s, “No one should have access to this.”

He raised his other hand and a glowing green post-it note shimmered into existence in his palm. He flicked his wrist toward Nightwing, offering the note to him between two fingers. It was now covered in tiny writing, just as indecipherable as his wrist computer had been.

“Take this into the greenhouse,” he nodded to a door behind Nightwing that had almost certainly not been there before, “Give it to the Gardener; she’ll get you what you need.”

Nightwing hesitantly took the note and looked to Batman, who nodded to him and began walking to one of the chairs next to the couch. He stepped backwards to the door and cracked it open, giving them all one more glance before slipping inside and closing it gently behind him.

Batman slipped his cowl off and grabbed one of the bottled drinks, twisting the cap off and taking a large sip.

“I’ve tried countless times to replicate this flavor, all of them unsuccessful.”

“It’s made with long-extinct fruits, Bruce. I’d be impressed if you managed it.”

Bruce grunted as the door behind him opened and Nightwing stepped in, looking slightly shell-shocked, carrying two small jars and no post-it note.

“Took you long enough,” Danny scolded while gesturing him over.

He handed the jars over and sat down in the chair opposite Bruce, squinting in confusion at his lack of cowl and relaxed snacking. Robin slid into place next to him, still tense and on guard.

Danny unscrewed one of the jars and stuffed a roll of bandages inside before screwing the lid back on. He tossed it to Bruce without looking (who easily caught it, of course) and unscrewed the lid off the other jar.

“Help yourselves, by the way,” he vaguely gestured toward Robin and Nightwing with his head and pointed to the table with his elbow.

Bruce shook his jar and pulled some of the bandages out, sliding them underneath his suit around his wound. Danny scooped a finger’s worth of paste out of his jar and spread it over Red Robin’s wound. He screwed the cap back on and tossed the jar to Bruce just as the other one came flying back to him. They were both easily caught, of course.

Despite the initial hiss of pain, Red Robin’s whole body had been relaxing since the paste had been applied. His eyes slowly opened while Danny was cleaning his hands off and flicked around the room in a quick assessment.

“Who’s this?”

“Danny.” Bruce supplied.

Red Robin looked around the room slowly this time, taking in Bruce’s cowl-less head, the half-drunken jar of colored drink in front of him, the pile of nuts in his hand, Nightwing’s slightly traumatized face and awkward posture, Robin’s irritated scowl and distrustful glare, and he groaned loudly.

“Please tell me this isn’t another Selina situation. He’s like my age.”

“Bold of you to assume my age and gender.” Danny deadpanned.

Red Robin gaped back.

“I met Danny when I was first starting out as Batman.”

“When he was what, eight?” Dick blurted.

“Still with the assumptions,” Danny muttered to himself.

“We thank you for your assistance...Danny.”

Robin was stiff and formal and struggled through the Danny. But that didn’t stop Danny from giving him a slight smile. He looked down at Red Robin then up at Nightwing then finally back at Bruce.

“I like them,” he declared, grabbing a jar of water off the table.

Bruce grunted as Danny unscrewed the lid and handed it to Red Robin.

“Danny has not aged since we first met.”

“Not exactly, but whatever,” Danny mumbled as he tidied up the first aid kit.

Nightwing opened his mouth as if to speak but shook his head and kept quiet. Robin stepped forward to grab a banana off the table with a polite nod to Danny. Red Robin stared down at the jar in his hands. It was full of cold water with a thick slice of pineapple and sprig of mint. After a quick glance to Bruce, he took a sip that turned into a gulp that turned into him emptying the jar in one go and releasing a contented sigh afterwards.

“Do you know anything about the Court of Owls?” Bruce asked.

A tremor shook the house. Bruce tensed in reflex but didn’t leave his chair after a glance to Danny. Nightwing leapt to his feet. Robin slid backwards and drew a blade. Red Robin jolted up and winced through the half-eaten pineapple slice in his mouth. There was a tense silence for several seconds.

“Only that they are not welcome in Gotham,” Danny eventually replied.

After a few more seconds of silence, Danny flicked his eyes to the fireplace mantle as a small object tipped itself over. Nightwing shot his hand out and snatched it out of the air before it could hit the ground. He opened his fist and looked at a miniature gargoyle statue in confusion.

“I may have to become involved,” Danny nodded to Nightwing, who gently replaced the gargoyle on the mantle.

Bruce grunted. Danny tilted his head, staring into the middle distance.

“The occult shop on 4th and Finger between Asher’s Deli and Panadería Golosos,” he recited.

“There is no such shop.” Robin scowled.

“You are correct,” Danny turned to look at him, “And now that you know it’s there, you’ll be able to find it.”

“Emergencies?” Bruce asked.

“Entryway table, same rules.”

The exchange seemed to satisfy Bruce, who stood with a grunt and pulled his cowl back over his head. The others rose with him and followed him toward the entryway, each nodding a thank you to Danny as they went.

They stepped back into the moonlight of the entryway and saw the previously empty table now had four keys laid out on top of it, evenly spaced and covered in a thin layer of dust. When they looked back through the archway they came from, they saw a dark room back to its original form, no Danny to be seen anywhere.

Batman grabbed one of the keys and slipped it into a belt pouch. Robin followed his lead and took a key for himself.

“Father, were you ever going to inform us that you befriended a vampire?”

Batman grunted and cracked the door open to peer out.

“He’s not a vampire,” Red Robin scoffed, grabbing a key for himself.

“I don’t know, creepy house, magic shit, you should’ve seen the gardener,” Nightwing swiped the last key with a flourish.

“He tasted your blood, Drake.”

“He what!?”

“That was after you called him cute,” Nightwing teased.

Red Robin froze with his mouth open, eyes slowly widening.

“I was hoping I just imagined that.”

“Seriously Tim, he’s probably like 300 years old.”

“Tt, I believe Brown would call this robbing the cradle.”

Nightwing and Red Robin turned to look at Robin in silent surprise.

“Shall we leave?” He ignored their incredulous looks and followed Batman out the door.

They scrambled to not be the last out the door, finding themselves in an entirely different part of the city than they entered from.

[thevoidstaredback]

Adventures In Gotham

Enough Caffeine to Kill an Elephant Side Story

The first time Danny had ever been to Gotham, he swore it would be his last. He was twenty-two at the time.

In an effort to relax after finals had ended, he, Tucker, Sam, Val, Wes, and Dani had been playing a round of Truth or Dare after finishing a few movies. Sam had dared Danny to wander around Gotham without attracting attention to himself. The catch was that he wasn't allowed to use his powers except to fly there and back. His time limit was Sunday night.

They'd all been planning to stay the night at Sam's anyway, so no one would even notice he was gone. Though, the dare had seemed easy at the time, Danny should've realized his luck was not that good.

Regardless, he flew to the outskirts of Gotham City, dropped his transformation, and entered.

The first thing he noticed was that there was some kind of bubble around Gotham preventing the Shades and overall feel of death from leaving. It was overwhelming at first, but he got used to it pretty quickly. The next thing he noticed was that he had walked into somebody's haunt.

Shit.

He made himself presentable and spoke to the night, "I apologise for trespassing," His voice echoed through the open area as though he was shouting in an empty room. Ghost Speak tended to do that. "I mean no hostile intentions. I simply wish to play a game with your protectors." With any luck, whoever this was would be playful or friendly, at the very least. He didn't hold his breath, though.

A lie. He was holding his breath, but that's only because he was nervous!

The night air stilled as though considering his words. Then, a breeze from behind pushed him further into the city. Flapping wings of bats and owls seemed to hide the whispers of "You may come in." and "Be careful." and "You will lose." and "Good luck.".

A vote of confidence from the City Spirit. "Thank you." He was going to be as quick as he could, but he couldn't draw attention to himself. Easier said than done. Batman seemed to know whenever anyone ever stepped foot into his city, especially if they've never been there before. So, he had to play hide and seek with Batman and Robin.

Again, easier said than done.

Danny knows very little about about Gotham and her heroes and villains. What he does know is that Robin is fairly knew to the scene, but also very serious in what he does. He's still a child, though, and he likes to play around a bit. Batman, on the other hand, has already become something of a cryptid, despite only showing himself a year or so ago. Either way, the two balance each other nicely and work well as a team.

Batman and Robin obviously know the entire city inside out, so Danny has to somehow keep an eye on where they are at all times while not drawing attention to himself. Which would be easy, except for the fact that Danny can only sense where non-living beings are. Batman and Robin are very much alive. He's pretty sure. Unless either of them have a shit ton of Shades attached to them, which is unlikely but not impossible, then he'll have to rely on finding them first and keeping them within his sight as he tours around their city.

Why the hell did he agree to this? He so deserves a reward if he succeeds.

'When', not 'if'. 'If' is pessimistic and implies that Batman might just drop him off a building and watch him fall. 'When' at least lets him continue with the illusion that he may get out of this no deader than when he arrived in Gotham.

All he had to do was basically tour the city, then he'll be done. It went well for the first hour, but then he spotted the shadows moving around him. It wouldn't normally be a problem, but one of those shadows was made out of bright colours. Seeing as his Ghost Sense didn't go off, Danny figured the he'd just run straight into Batman and Robin.

Shit. Fuck. Okay, play it cool, Danny.

He ran. He ran as fast as he could without using his powers. When he was sure he'd lost the two vigilanties, he allowed himself to stop in an alley somewhere in the Narrows. (The map he looked at was coming in very handy all of a sudden)

"Could be worse," he said to himself, backing into a corner.

The sound of shattering glass and the scurrying of mice and rats gave the impression of laughter and taunting. Which, rude, but fair.

"Your Knights, my lady," he spoke into the darkness, "are terrifying."

"Who you talking to?"

Danny did not jump. He didn't! Liar.

The kid, about twelve years old, was in bright green, red, and yellow. His hair windswept and he didn't seem even the slightest bit out of breath, let alone tired. Shouldn't he be in bed? Did he have a bedtime? He should have a bedtime, in Danny's expert opinion.

"Did you know that humans are endurance hunters?" Robin had been smiling since he dropped down in front of Danny. And if that wasn't a scary ass line to hear from a twelve year old up way past his bedtime-

No, he's not intimidated. "It's, um, a good thing I'm not completely human then, huh?" Stupid, stupid, stupid! Shut up, Danny! Stop talking! Right now!

This made Robin frown and the shadows started to move again, Batman taking his place just behind the boy. "What do you mean?"

Damn, he's scary! Danny's a sucker for a deep voice with a growl, damn.

"I, um," Intelligent response, Danny. King of the Realm Between Realms of Infinity. Keeper of Balance, Timeless Protector of the Dead and Living, and he can't even form a proper sentence.

Batman and Robin's stares were uncomfortably similar, even as Robin tilted his head ever so slightly to the right.

For all his wisdom, Danny couldn't see how he could manage to get out of this without using his powers. So, "Gottagobye!" he let intangibility and invisibility wash over him and he slipped through the wall behind him. From there, he let the rings of light cover him and he flew away.

He'll take the L. That was scary as hell!

The night wind brushed against him, the sound of breaking bones and cackling telling him to come by to play again some time. Had Gotham's City Spirit lead her Knight and his child to Danny? Probably. She seemed like the type. At least she seems to like him? Silver linings.

"I'm never going there again," he muttered halfway to Illinois.

Storyboard

Tag List:

@zaiothe4th @someonebored0100 @wolfeyedwitch @angelheartgamer @nymanders @princessbelix @luminanightfall @kgne-k @bianca-hooks123 @reigning-catsanddogs @sassywombatranchhorse @dontfightmecauseillcry @soul-lime @anarinette @serasvictoria02 @the-chaos-goblin-child @confusedshades @caicie @fantasticstoryteller @randomshtickidk @itsberrydreemurstuff @blueliac @i-love-mangoes @nymanders @highimpactemotions @anarinette @sleepingdead96 @orbr @tkiesai @atomicsheepscientist @8000fangirl @shower-phantom-ideas @blep-23

[amaramizuki666]

Dp x DC crossover

So Danny moves to Gotham for college and ends up in almost all the same classes tim is in. Danny also cant catch a brake from ghost issues while in Gotham.

__________________

Tim stared at the boy in the seat in front of him. Daniel 'Danny' Fenton, majoring in criminal justice, and astrophysics. He was 5'5, had black hair, blue eyes, and was covered in freckles.

The reason tim was so interested in the guy was (no not because he had a crush. SHUT UP JASON!) Danny always looked like he'd drop dead at any moment. His eye bags where worse than Tim's own, and his skin was deathly pale. Tim swore sometimes he saw Danny's lips turn blue.

And danny constantly falling asleep in class certainly didnt help his worrys. The reason tim was stareing at danny now was because tim noticed a bruise around Danny's wrist in the shape of a hand. Was someone hurting Danny? Tim wasnt sure but he was going to find out.

The bell rung and danny left the room, tim waiting a few moments before following him. Was tim stalking his classmate? Mabey. But not like in a creepy way hes just worried.

It's totally not creepy at all to follow your unsuspecting classmate who you have only had a handful of conversations with into a dimly lit, empty library. Right?

Tim waited only a few moments to follow danny through the dubble doors of the library sticking low and to the shadows (which clinged to him to help conceal him). He looked around for a moment till he spotted danny in one of the darker corners, facing away from him.

He got closer and noticed glowing blobs of light , green, Lazarus green light floated around danny. "You know I thought when I moved here I could stop the whole sleepless nights thing, but nope instead I'm dealing with even more ghost shit." Tim heard danny rant quietly and watched one of the blobs come out of his sleeve wrapping its tail? Around his brused wrist.

"At least I have you guys" Danny's voice carried a gentiles, one tim hasnt heard from the boy. (Tim oh so wished danny would use that voice with him. NO NOT BECAUSE HE FELL HARDER THAN THAT TIME DAMIAN CUT HIS CORD SHUT UP JASON!).

Tim felt like he was intruding, even though his brain begged for him to dig into danny and learn all he can about him and what the hell was happening, he also didnt want to disturb this moment of peice.

Tim took a step back ready to retreat for the moment. When he stepped on a stray pencil. A creak, a loud echo of the pencil snapping beneath his boot its sent through the library.

Danny's head snaps to tim so fast hes worried the boy gave himself whiplash. Tim froze and so did danny. The stared at eachother studying one another.

Tim's breath caught in his throat. Danny's eyes where glowing a Lazarus green, his ears where pointed, and his freckles glowed like stars. Danny looked beautiful.

Danny had a awkward smile on his lips "um hi I can explain?" Danny says an anxiety filled laugh following after. "Please do" tim says.

He wont press danny for answers, he is already anxious enough, tim isnt Bruce. But he will listen to any information danny is willing to give. Which ends up being a lot. Apparently danny has a trauma dumping issue, but that's fine tim has dated worse. He did date stephanie after all.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

We’ve Got Tonight || LN4

Pairing: Lando Norris x singer!reader Summary: When you catch your boyfriend cheating you get your sweet revenge and a handsome stranger who steps in to protect you. Warnings: being cheated on, angst, injury

Songs: Shania Twain - Man! I feel like a woman Garth Brooks - Friends in low places Carrie Underwood - Before he cheats Kenny Rogers & Sheena Easton - We’ve got tonight

Lando couldn’t believe he had let Daniel drag him out to the Texan bar. It was completely polar opposite to anything he was used to, but Danny fit right in with his Stetson hat and cowboy boots. 

Lando winced into his glass as the latest woman to take the corner stage butchered a Shania Twain song but it didn’t seem to bother his drinking buddy as he left to join the rows of people line dancing. Lando was grateful when the song came to an end but it was short lived as he heard a familiar Australian accent on the mic talking the band into playing Friends in Low Places. Spinning around on his stool at the bar, the McLaren driver found his old teammate on the small stage grinning like a fool as the music started. 

Lando watched the older driver and envied the confidence he had to sing terribly to a bar full of strangers. It didn’t matter if he couldn’t hold a note or match the key - Daniel had presence and was always entertaining. The song was almost over when a change of light caught Lando’s eye and he swivelled back to see the saloon doors swing shut behind you. 

Lando nearly fell off his chair. The sight of your smile was dazzling and he swore the colours in the room were brighter because of it. He hardly remembered to breathe as you cast your eyes around the bar, searching for something he suddenly hoped he had. Disappointment landed heavy on his chest as your pretty eyes settled on the pool tables and he wondered which one of the handsome men was lucky enough to have you. 

He started to turn away and wash the bitter taste of jealousy from his mouth with his drink when he saw the smile dim. It was like a cloud had come and blocked the sun, shadows curving your lips down until they pressed to a hard line and your eyes narrowed on a man. Lando swallowed at the change thinking you was even more beautiful, like lightning in a thunderstorm. Beautiful, dangerous, deadly.

Then you were gone, the tassels on your boots swaying quickly as you disappeared out the door as quickly as you came. 

“Whatcha looking for?” Daniel asked as he dropped back into his seat. Lando hadn’t even noticed the song had ended while he watched the empty space in the doorway, another singer taking the stage. 

“N-nothing,” he stammered quickly as he turned back to the bar and raised his glass to his dry lips. 

“Whatever you say, mate,” Daniel chuckled as he clapped Lando on the back. “She was hot though, right?” 

Lando coughed and sputtered on his drink as Daniel laughed knowingly. “Don’t you have a girlfriend?”

“Yeah, but I’m not blind. And since you’re single, you should get off your ass and lasso yourself a lady friend. You know what they say: save a horse, ride a cowgir-” Lando clamped a hand over Daniel’s mouth as his cheeks turned pink. 

“You can’t say that, dude! You are totally going to get cancelled one day.”

Daniel shrugged and sent him a lopsided grin as he looked over Lando’s shoulder. “Looks like it’s  your lucky day.”

—

White hot rage left your hands shaking as you dropped the baseball bat and walked away, the metal clanking loudly on the asphalt of the parking lot. You didn’t even notice the trickle of blood running down your fingertips from cutting your palm with Damon’s hunting knife when you slashed the tyres of his Ford Raptor. You couldn’t feel anything except the burning need for revenge.

All the joy you had felt on the drive to the bar had been forgotten. The phone call with the news seemed like a lifetime ago and you hated him all the more for ruining what should have been the best day of your life so far.

After years of hard work you were finally catching a break and had been signed to Big Loud and would soon be recording your own country music. You had been so excited you had left work early and driven across town to surprise Damon. What a surprise he would get.

You looked ahead at the bar you had left, still seeing the way he curled himself around her, the pretense of pretending to teach her how to play pool - the same trick he had used to get close to you the night you met. Rotten bastard. It made you question the last two years together and how many other women he pulled the same moves on. You were going to teach him a lesson, and maybe save her from the same fate.

You swaggered into the bar and felt eyes on you, but the only pair that didn’t turn were his. Damon was too enraptured by the woman dancing against him, a dainty cocktail spilling over her glass. 

“Mind if I butt in next, Jimmy?” you asked the old man who loved to sing a bit of Kenny Rogers after a few drafts of beer. 

“Not at all, pumpkin, been a while since you joined us.” The song was just finishing and Jimmy jutted his chin at Damon as he poured two shots of whiskey, offering one to you. “Say, ain’t that your old man?”

“Not any more.” You downed the shot and inhaled the burn before taking the stage and telling the band what to play. 

—

Lando stepped off his stool as the song started and his feet carried him closer to the stage with Daniel right at his side, not that he noticed. You hadn’t even parted your lips but he knew, somehow he just knew, you would sound perfect. The song was one he recognised, maybe from a movie or just on the radio, but it hit differently when he saw your eyes boring holes into the couple still dancing together by the pool tables. 

Right now, he's probably slow dancin' with a bleach-blonde tramp and she's probably gettin' frisky. Right now, he's probably buyin' her some fruity little drink 'cause she can't shoot whiskey. Right now, he's probably up behind her with a pool stick showin' her how to shoot a combo. And he don't know…

Lando couldn’t breathe as he watched the realisation dawn on the stranger who looked up from the blonde woman he had been grinding on. The man’s jaw went slack and he half shoved the woman from his lap as he straightened up, a small shake of his head when he met the eyes on the stage. He could almost hear the whispered ‘oh no’ fall from his lips and he felt a smug satisfaction on your behalf. 

I dug my key into the side of his pretty little souped-up four-wheel drive. Carved my name into his leather seats. I took a Louisville slugger to both headlights. Slashed a hole in all four tires. Maybe next time, he'll think before he cheats.

Your smile was dark and you watched Damon blanch at the sight, only making you feel even better for what you had done.

I might've saved a little trouble for the next girl, 'cause the next time that he cheats, Oh, you know it won't be on me. No, not on me.

“No, no, baby, no,” Damon whined as he tugged the short strands of his hair and rushed out of the bar, leaving his date in a state of confusion until her brain caught up and her hands shot to cover her mouth in shock. 

“Yeah, he played us both, honey,” you said as you shoved the mic back in the stand and crossed your arms as the doors burst open.

“You crazy bitch!” Damon tried to rush the stage only to find himself shoved back by a handsome stranger who was apparently a lot stronger than he looked. “Get the fuck out of my way!”

“Not gonna happen, mate,” he said with a chuckle, his British accent sweet on the ears. “I think you’ve done enough, don’t you?”

“She ruined my fucking truck! Do you know how much that cost?”

You scoffed and stepped up behind the stranger, feeling bolder as you saw his arms flex ready to protect you. “Too much, but I guess you had to overcompensate for something small,” you said as your eyes darted to his trousers and the taller companion barely contained his laugh.

“Oh, I like this one, Lando. She’s got fire.”

“Just give me my house key and leave, it’s over.” You held out your palm waiting until he fisted his keys from his pocket and cursed your name as he pulled it off the keyring. 

“Where the fuck am I meant to live?”

You looked over at the woman and asked, “Do you want to take him home, honey?” She shook her head now that she knew he was a no good cheater and your smile widened as you turned back to Damon. “You’ll be nice and cozy in your pickup.”

He stepped forward but Lando’s friend joined him shoulder to shoulder and Damon quickly realised he was not going to win whatever went down. With his tail between his legs, he turned and grumbled his way out the door before the band started up and Jimmy kicked off with We’ve Got Tonight. 

“I don’t know how to thank you,” you said as the two strangers finally deemed it safe to turn their backs on the door and face you. A pair of stormy blue eyes met yours and you blinked twice before you managed to look away, scanning a quick glance over the messy styled curls on his head to the slim black t-shirt that fitted perfectly. Your lips dried as you realised you were staring and he cleared his throat when he caught himself doing the same. 

“Can I buy you a drink?”

You bit your lip at the offer and tipped your head to the side. “I think I should be the one buying you a drink, your friend too. It’s the least I can do.”

“Daniel,” the taller man said with a grin and held his hand out to shake.

“Y/N.”

“Enchanté.”

“Uh, bless you.”

Lando laughed and the sound brought a smile to your face. “I know how you can thank me,” he said as he nodded to Jimmy who was grabbing a second microphone and pointing it your way. “I’m fairly sure this song is a duet. Know it?”

You smirked as you stepped back and gave him a wink before taking the stage, his eyes never leaving yours and you sang just for him.

We've got tonight, Who needs tomorrow? Let's make it last, Let's find a way Turn out the light, Come take my hand now We've got tonight, babe, Why don't we stay?

His nod was almost imperceptible and you weren’t sure if you imagined it as you let the question hang in the air while the music faded out. In two long, self-certain steps, he closed the distance and offered his hand to help you down the steps and you grinned at the warmth of his palm as he laced your fingers with his.

Suddenly he froze and looked down, concern etching his features as he pulled his hand back and found it stained red. “Fuck, you’re hurt.”

You blinked at the cut on your palm, only noticing the ache after your attention was drawn to it. “Huh, guess that’s what I get for slashing his tyres,” you murmured with a weak laugh.

“He deserved more than that,” Lando growled as he led you to the bar and asked for a first aid kit. “But he definitely didn’t deserve you.”

“You don’t know me, I could be a terrible person.” You winced as he cleaned the cut before pressing a bandage to stem the bleeding.

“I’m a pretty good judge of character, Y/N.” He pinned the bandage into place before lifting your hand to his lips and kissing the top softly. “I knew it from your smile when you arrived, and everything after just proves you’re strong.”

Your chin dipped as you felt your face flush and you couldn’t remember the last time someone was so sweet. “You really know how to make a girl feel special. So how long are you in town for?”

His lips turned down slightly as he sighed and reluctantly admitted. “We fly back to London tomorrow.”

You felt the same disappointment but chased it away and squeezed his hand that still held yours, your eyes meeting with the same idea flitting past. “We’ve got tonight?”

His smile returned and grew until his eyes wrinkled with how wide it was, brightening up his whole face and sparking yours to match. “Yeah, we’ve got tonight.”

[jackdraw-spwrite]

Squall

Words: 924 Characters: Danny Fenton Warnings: Some light body horror, but only about what you see in the show. Danny's not distressed. For Ectoberhaunt 2024 Day 11: Dark and Stormy Night

The storm rolled in a little after sunset. 

Danny was busy playing a few rounds of Doomed with Sam and Tucker when it did–with his eyes on the screen and headphones on, he didn't notice it until the audio from the both of them cut out.

Read the rest on AO3, or below the readmore:

“Guys? Guys?” Danny asked. He did a little dance in front of Chaos.

Chaos blipped offline, followed shortly by Friar Tuck. 

“Huh,” said Danny, and ended the game.

The lobby was empty, too. After a minute neither of them had picked up the call again, so he hung up and sent them a text.

Danny: You guys okay?

Tucker: As long as I have my sweet Theresa

Sam: yeah

Danny: ghost?

Sam: Look outside you dork 

Sam: Power’s out

Danny blinked. His room still had power.

And then he remembered that his parents had installed some kind of complicated backup power system that meant that technically, the city paid them money. 

Right.

He pulled off his headphones just in time for a rumble to shake the house, followed quickly by the patter of rain in a dull crescendo.

Well, that explained why the power might be out. 

Through the rain-streaked glass, the neighboring buildings were dark. This wasn't all that unusual–occupancy on their street had been low before the portal, and had plummeted after. But even the occupied buildings were dark, the only light on the street outside from Fentonworks.

Danny went ghost and slipped through his window. The raindrops beat on his face and back as he flew up, and by the time he was level with the ops center it had plastered his hair to his head. 

Fentonworks was visible, outlined in eye-searing neon. Cars slipped between the silhouettes of buildings in streams of white and red. In the distance, Amity General and Axion were both illuminated. But most of Amity was dark. 

Above it, the clouds were a boiling patchwork: dark shapes stitched together by lighter seams. Their edges were rough like they'd been torn apart, and as Danny watched, they melded together, churned, and separated again. Now and then, lightning flickered within.

The wind blew another flurry of rain into his face. It whipped around his body and pulled his tail behind him like a pennant. Danny let it. He stood fast against the wind for one moment longer, savoring the turbulence rippling his tail, and then he let the wind sweep him away.

Near the buildings and ground, the wind rushed pell-mell in different directions. It careened down buildings and up streets, battered across intersections. As the wind carried him along, Danny relaxed. His muscles fell slack, and his bones followed suit. His borders went fuzzy, and then he was nothing more than a vaguely boy-shaped shadow, light as the air he drifted in.

The beat of rain on his head stopped, replaced with little paffs of sensation as it fell through him, instead.

Like that, the wind blustered him past dark windows and brickwork, under idling cars and along sidewalks until, finally, he hit an updraft that hurled him above Amity's roofline, spinning madly. 

Danny closed his eyes and let himself tumble higher, higher. The wind tugged him this way and that, folding and unfurling him across the sky in turns until Danny felt like nothing more than dough in a mixing bowl and then it stirred him more. 

Danny laughed breathlessly. He rattled like a fancy drink, twisted like a rollercoaster ride–

And finally, the wind batted him into a temporary calm.

He opened his eyes.

Far above, Amity was aglow again. It was spinning manically at a tilt, lights carving out arcs around a central point. Beneath him, the clouds churned. This close, it was easy to see their scale – dark forms the size of hills – even if everything else was a blur.

Danny willed himself back together from the diffuse cloud he'd become. Now too dense for wind alone to carry, he began to drop.

As he did, he felt his bones condense like hailstones inside him. The first to finish were his largest, followed by a line of kernels connecting his skull to his ribcage, his ribcage to his pelvis. With a pleasant chill, they popped into vertebrae. His wrists regrew as a solid mass before crunching into something more flexible, followed by five long icicles for each hand, which proceeded to do the same.

By this point, the carousel of light had spread out above him, the nearest lights growing from hairline scratches to pencil lines, and Danny slowed his descent and his spin. The windows below him resolved into individual squares, still hundreds of feet below.

It took Danny a few moments to locate Fentonworks – not because it was hard to spot, but because his eyes kept spinning without the rest of him.

The last of his ghostly flesh melted back into place. Danny shook himself to dislodge any rainwater that might’ve gotten stuck, and headed for home, flight path a little unsteady.

He landed back in his room with a flash of transformation rings and padded over to his computer. His phone was still sitting beside it, front screen lit up with new messages.

Sam: Power’s back. Where are you?

Tucker: Dude?

Danny: Went 2 check storm out. Pretty cool

Sam: We’re in the lobby

Doomed was still open, launch screen playing out the welcome animation over and over. The electronic tones of the main theme filtered up to him from his headphones.

Danny rolled his chair close, put his headphones on, and hit join.

[wandixx]

You'll never find the aswers ch.3

Words in this part: 5155

Story summary: M'gann was having an amazing day. She met with her civilian friends, drank an amazing smoothie, saw a cute dog. For a few hours, she didn't have to think about problems that took more than 20 minutes to solve. For a few hours, she could just be Megan.

And then there was a scream of a woman, mother, who thought too loud and faded too fast and M'gann wasn't enough to save her and it made her whole world come crashing down

And then Danny found her, with a soft smile and patient voice. He kneeled beside her to pick up the pieces.

And shards cut them both in the process.

This part summary: Team watches an action movie (it goes wrong), M'gann trains, Conner would like to not hear stuff sometimes and Danny explores Ghost Zone

Trigger warnings: Flashbacks, Panic Attacks, Self-Hatered (I think? M'gann blames herself for the death from frist chapter and it's prominent in her internal monologue), Self-Harm (in form of overtraining), Sensory overstimulation, Mentions of death and afterlife, Infinity

first chapter, previous chapter

They were having a movie night. Danny wasn’t there, but it wasn’t unexpected. He often couldn’t make it to the training. Relaxation, like movie nights, was obviously out. M’gann wasn’t sure what they were watching. She wouldn’t be there too, forcing her telekinesis past its limits, if it wasn’t too out of character for her and therefore would without a shadow of the doubt worry everyone. She told Danny not to tell anyone specifically because she wanted to avoid that. They had better things to do, especially since she was fine. She couldn't eat, sleep, or bring herself to do many things, but she was fine enough so that nobody should be inconvenienced. Fact that Danny found out was unexpected, and she was a little mad at herself that she was glad it happened. He probably had the most on his plate among all Team members, he didn’t deserve to be burdened with her mess too.

But it was nice to have someone listen to everything. It was freeing.

There were three enormous bowls of popcorn on the table, each already half empty. From experience, M’gann knew someone will need to make more at some point during the movie. They had Wally on the crew, after all.

She usually liked the smell of popcorn, it was quite nice and somewhat soothing, but that day it just made her nauseous.

She was trying to focus, really. It wasn’t like she had much else to think about. She shouldn’t struggle with following the simple storyline of an action movie about some guy going out of his way to get revenge because of something, something. But her mind couldn’t get on with the program.

She refocused again, just as the music grew louder and first gunshots exploded from speakers. She should look at least a little bit engaged, and from the years of experience with human media she learned some little tricks they used. Loud music meant Important MomentTM.

The hero of the story, whose name M’gann still didn’t know, looked younger, in an artificial, CGI way. Not wrong enough to make humans feel wrong, probably, but enough to be seen. He was surrounded by The Bad People. Man was fighting, three versus one, as if he tried to be a knock-off Batman. At some point, one attacker broke off and kicked down the door to the other room. Someone screamed and despite its clear fakeness, M’gann tensed. Too close, too close. The Bad Guy dragged someone outside by the hair, one person in each hand. Protagonist's wife and daughter. There was some yelling, but the world started slipping again so M’gann didn’t remember what was being said. Main character threw himself at the man with a gun, ignoring the knife lodged in his shoulder.

BANG, BANG.

Hero punched the gun out of the bad guy’s hands, but it was too late. There were no blown out brains or anything because the movie was PG13, but it was clear enough. Wife and child were dead. M’gann couldn’t breathe.

She too had been a few steps away, then she held the cooling body like a heartbroken man on the screen and- and-

“I‘m going to make more popcorn,” she stuttered, gripping tightly onto the edge of the bowl. She almost flew out of the room with her haste to leave before anyone had a chance to respond.

She crashed into the first room she found, falling to her knees as soon as the door started closing.

Scream pierced her ears, high and terrified before the noise of the body hitting something at high speed.

She should’ve seen it coming, she should’ve saved them, she should be better.

She couldn’t breathe.

Her hands spasmed, letting go of something. It clattered on the floor.

She barely felt her head bang on the door when she flinched.

She flinched away when the woman gurgled, when she tried to say something.

She couldn’t breathe. There were dark spots blinking and racing around her.

Hot asphalt was burning her exposed knees when she brushed hair away from the woman's eyes.

She was watching life leaving her eyes, and she couldn’t do anything. Nobody and nothing held her back, but she was too weak and blind to save this one life. So precious and important.

Her forehead touched down on the cool, rough floor, warm breaths forced her to blink. She wrapped her hands around her stomach as if the pressure would change anything.

Her cheeks were wet, tears creating patches of water on the tile.

She wondered if the little boy, too, was crying right then. She could ask when they meet. If he would look her in the eyes after she confessed to killing his mom.

The chill spreading through her face and her numbing legs brought her back a bit. Busy streets of Detroit were quieter, August's overwhelming heat let go a bit, so Mountain’s cool air brushed against her sweat-covered skin. She wasn’t suffocating on the stench of overheating asphalt. She remembered grounding techniques Black Canary taught them. She started breathing in a long forgotten, long ingrained pattern. It wasn’t hard. She could do it. She could at least do this.

In, 2- out-

In, 2, 3- out, 2-

In, 2, 3- out, 2, 3-

In, 2, 3, 4, ho- out, 2, 3, 4-

In, 2, 3, 4, hold, 2- out, 2, 3, 4, 5-

She was getting better, she could at least do this better. She could at least breathe.

That woman couldn’t anymore and it was all M’gann’s fault.

In, 2, 3, 4, hold, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, out,2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

She got this. She was alright.

She stood up, her legs a bit wobbly from the long sitting. With a surprise muted by unexpected exhaustion she realized she crashed in a conference room, one of the only left, that was insulated against superhearing. It was good that she did. She didn't want to unnecessarily worry Conner.

She raised the plastic bowl from the ground and opened the door. She was alright.

She went to the kitchen, already calling a pack of microwaveable popcorn to her. She had to make a fresh batch. That's why she left after all.

She returned to the Team, smiling like her chest didn’t still feel too small for the breaths she needed to take. She was alright.

She had to be alright.

***

Thud, thud, thud

Her hands ached from repetitive attacks on a Kryptonian grade punching bag. It would be reduced to shreds if it was any less durable.

It was dark around. She turned light off when they became too grating for her eyes. Around hour and a half into her training if she recalled correctly. A little over two hours ago if the blaring red clock on a far away wall qnd her ability to count were to be believed.

Big, fitting five people without a trouble, couch was flying up an down, like a ball tossed by a bored kid.

She was right under it.

Her control began to be shaky. She used her telekinesis for too long. She couldn't stop now. She needed to push harder. There was some nice human metaphor or something for it, she remembered from her English classes. Impending doom of a dead thing, sword probably, right over ones head.

There was no part of her that wasn't in pain. Good. Training was supposed to hurt. She deserved it. She deserved much worse than that. Muscles needed to break to regrow stronger anyway. She needed to be better.

If she'd been good enough before, this woman would be safe. Would be alive. So she needed to be faster. Stronger. She needed to be better.

Thud, thud, thud

Her breathing was heavy, labored. There were spots in her vision and sweat on her brows.

Couch slipped from under her control and started falling.

She caught it before it crashed into her.

Thud, thud, thud

Right hook, left uppercut, sidekick, sidekick, sidekick, left hook.

Tapes on her hands have gotten bloody at some point. She stopped punching to flex her fingers for a moment. They trembled from exhaustion and ached when she moved them. Her whole body did. She took a deep breath.

She didn't deserve a break yet. Not until she was good enough.

Thud, thud–

“Meg?” a quiet question rang from behind her, muffled by the closed door.

–thud

Go away, she was busy.

Thud, thud, thud

“Hi Danny“ she called out, not stopping her exercise.

“I know you didn't expect me but I had a moment so I dropped by,” he continued, failing to hide strain and shakyness of his voice. She knew he was lying even without feeling his emotions. He came specifically for her, because she was a mess and couldn't even handle it properly on her own. He forced himself to use Zeta Tubes if she had to guess.

Thud, thud, THUD

“Meg? Can I come in?”

No. No, he couldn't.

She would prefer he didn't. He would try to stop her, tell her it wasn't her fault and bunch of other lies. And she would snap at him like she snapped at Wally for simple sin of being in the same room as her, and then she would yell and force Danny to spar and–

THUD, THUD, THUD

She didn't deserve a friend like that. She didn't deserve friends at all. She just kept lying to them or forcing them to lie for her or hurt them even though she didn't want to.

She didn't deserve friends. She was just going to ruin them all.

“Meg, I can’t hear your answer. Are you alright in there?”

Why did he keep being so nice?!

THUD, THUD, THUD

Couch slipped again. She caught it much lower than before. It probably was some sort of sign to her but she was content living it unread.

“Meg, you’re worrying me, I'm coming in!”

She twisted to face door so fast she couldn't see anything other than colorful dots for a moment. It was a miracle she stayed upright. Before she could yell “No!” the door opened with a low hiss.

There was bright, cold light in the corridor. Danny was just a frozen, dark outline surrounded by it, in a narrow rectangle of doorway, looking every bit like angels she saw in some movies. Eternal, delicate, helpful, good. A being of heavens.

After so long in the darkness, white glow sent a strike of unimaginable pain all the way from her eyes. Her brain cleared, leaving only an agony, burning along her nerves. Her eyelids moved, her hands tried but couldn’t, to shield her but it was already too late.

Somebody screamed.

“M'GANN!“ another voice yelled in panic but all she could focus on was how it was too bright and now it was also too loud and everything hurt so much and she couldn't even raise her hands to protect her eyes, or squeeze her temples or do anything about it and she kinda wanted to cry and–

Somebody slammed into her, fast, tackling her to the ground. She yelped, bracing for a new pain of crashing into training mats but it never came. Whoever attacked her twisted so she ended up on top. There was a low grunt from under her on the impact.

Thunderclap shook the floor from somewhere behind them.

She turned her head, much slower this time and forced her eyes to open. It was harder than it should be. She stared at the remnants of the couch with disbelief.

She had been standing there few seconds ago.

Breath got trapped in her throat and couldn't escape. She nearly died. She was almost crushed under a goddamn couch.

“Hey, Meg, are you okay? I'm sorry I rushed like that, I kinda panicked when I saw a couch falling. Why was it even up there?”

“Training,“ she answered distantly, still straing at the ruined furniture. Broken wooden frame stuck out of mess of plush and fabric. Whole thing was almost unrecognisable. Even engineering genius like Danny wouldn't be able to fix. Anger started to stir deep inside her. Why did he even come?!

“Okay… this is certainly an efficient technique, but it's freaking dangerous, you realized that, right?”

“I would be fine if you didn't distract me,” she snapped, rolling off of him and standing up. She needed to wait out some minor dizziness but after that she was ready to continue her training.

Confusion flashed across Danny's face before he also got up with a resigned sigh.

“Sorry, I was worried because I couldn't hear you”

“You have literal super hearing! You didn't need to come in!” she yelled. He could at least be honest with her, if he had to be overbearing.

“I di–”

“You called out Wally on the bluff based on his heartbeat literally yesterday! You liar!“ she threw the first punch. If he had to interrupt her, he could at least spar.

“Base has been ghost-proofed recently so my powers don't work in different rooms,” he said tiredly, dodging her without much effort.

“Why would it be ghost-proofed inside?!” If he had to lie, he could at least come up with something that made more sense. She knew he could so it was just insulting.

“Officially to make any enemy infiltration harder but unofficially I'm almost sure Batman just didn't like when I scared the shit out of him when I phased through the wall right behind him,” he explained with a cheeky grin. Insufferable.

“Stop joking around you idiot!” she screamed, throwing a piece of destroyed coach at him.

“Now, chill the hell out, M’gann“ he dropped down to dodge it and tried to swipe her.

“I was doing something important and you came in like it was nothing!” She floated and tried to kick him in the head but stopped her with his forearm. His limbs were trembling even before her shin connected to them.

“I didn’t–”

“You almost broke Artemis’ arm and she just tried to wake you up fro a nap, you hypocrite!”

Danny froze for a moment and then yelped when she managed to kick him in the ribs. It wasn't a strong kick but it surprised him anyway. He deflated like a punctured tyre.

“I didn’t want to and I was barely sane from exhaustion,“ he admitted, barely louder than a whisper, as if he shared some secret.

He didn’t say anything after that and didn't try to punch back. She punched and punched and punched. And he just dodged or blocked or went intangible like it was a game. M’gann screeched, wordless and furious, throwing all her weight at him. Danny caught her out of the air and restrained, keeping her close to his chest. She tried to break free, lashing out and screaming and whipping her head in fruitless attempts to smash his nose.

“I'm worried about you, Meg” he whispered, so full of concern and sadness and M’gann just wanted to scream again because she just had to do better and there was nothing to worry about and she was still too weak to evade simple hold and, and, and–

“Get off my back Danny, I'm fine!” she yelled back, trashing with more vigor than before.

“Are you?”

M’gann froze. She was fine, she knew it and she should say ‘yes, of course, I can take care of myself, who do you think I am’ but words couldn't leave her mouth. She took a breath, deeper than she did in long time but normal from outside perspective. Her fingers began aching again, adrenaline fading way faster than it should.

Danny released her from his hold and gently turned her around, raising his head a bit to look her in the eyes.

“I need to train more.”

“Later” Danny murttered, carefully taking one of her hands in his “Muscles grow when you let them rest. Same with neuronal connections responsible for learning. Rest” His fingers were freezing, way cooler than they usually were, as he swiftly unwrapped her hands, cold trail easing some pain and preventing bruises from forming.

M’gann didn’t deserve it. She didn't deserve it so much.

It took her a long moment to realize that a sob she heard came from her throat. In the meantime, she wasn't sure when, Danny freed her other hand and now held her palms in his, gently rubbing her knuckles.

“I got you Meg. I got you. You can cry now”

So she did.

***

Conner felt like sometimes his teammates forgot he could hear things. He wasn't too mad about it, they sometimes forgot their own powers (just Danny actually) or walked into walls hoping they would unlock powers they had no reason to believe they would get right then (just Wally to be honest).

Anyway, since he lived in the Team's Base full time, he heard quite a lot of stuff he probably wasn't supposed to hear. Shared secrets, ‘that one person at my school’ discussion, talks about insecurities… he was privy on everything. School was obviously hundred times worse in this regard but also, nobody could expect them to know they should keep their voices low. Even if sometimes he really wanted to yell in the middle of the corridor or break into radiostation (if his school had one) to make such announcement. He knew far more about cheerleaders’ and baseball players’ bodies than he'd like to. But he couldn’t because secret identities and stuff. But Team should know better. It wasn't something he held against them, afterall he forgot about some things Danny could do too, but one would think they'd be better at it.

But what brought this onto his mind wasn't another ‘keep it under the hat’ type of conversation. It was repetitive, migraine inducing thudding from the training area that had been going on without a break for the last two hours. He held back a sigh and tried to focus back on his homework. Wally dropped by for a study session so they weren’t in blessedly soundproofed rooms. M’gann’s training and her sobs were beginning to be a bit too much, especially when combined with electric current innthe walls, and dishwasher working through all the plates speedster needed to fit his snacks, and upbeat music redhead played on the speakers to “lighten up” the mood and help himself focus, and heartbeats and whatever he called life sounds of Red Tornado in his work room, and rush of everyone's blood and sound of air in the lungs, and AC and whatever festivities were happening in Happy Harbor city center and–

Pencil snapped in his hand. He stared at it for a moment, his mind still trying to comprehend what actually just happened. Wally turned off his music and ran off for barely linger than a blink, returning with Fenton-made, Bat-approved headphones that let him rest, making him hear a little bit worse than a healthy human teenager would (“I'll fix it” Danny muttered after the first roundnof tests). Speedster also brought him new pencil. Conner grunted because speaking felt like really bad idea despite world being already blessedly muted. They both knew he was grateful.

“You still up to homework?“

He nodded and read the question again, finally able to focus enough to understand it.

As he worked through his question sheet he wondered what he should do about M’gann. Obviously with headphones on he couldn't actually hear her but there was no doubt she'd keep going until someone told her to stop or she collapsed. He knew she wasn’t realy good at taking breaks since she started her intense routine few weeks ago. He heard it. On the other hand, he wasn't really good at this whole people interaction stuff and Wally with his fast mouth and unrestrained cheer wasn't good for this situation either. She was crying, it wouldn’t do any good if either of them messed up.

It was probably time when he should go to Black Canary and snitch. Or call Danny. He seemed to be really helpful all the previous times. M’gann would probably use talking with either of them.

Yeah, he would tell whoever he would meet first. It was probably not good for M’gann to keep going like that.

***

“Excuse me, has this lady appeared here lately? She died about two weeks ago”

Danny was sure that here was where he'd find her. He had all he'd need, her photo name, and photo of her grave, because apparently some ghost found it more helpful. He'd find her here. He was su–

“No, I don’t think anyone like that appeared here lately“

Alright, but it had to be it–

“Never seen her”

Here–

“I don't think she would be around here, have you tried Akhirah?“

“Yes, I did”

There was no way she wasn’t–

“Nope”

He had to find her, she had to be–

“Unfortunately no, have a good luck though“

It wasn't likely but–

“Fuck off punk before I make you”

“I don't want to fight you, I just need to find her, is she here?”

“Does it look like a place for someone with such basic-ass grave?”

Danny carefully didn’t think about the implications of the existence of the grave shaming culture among some ghosts. He carefully didn’t yell that this woman's family (just her son and wasn't that absolutely awful) didn't have money for the funeral so it was funded by whoever was legally obliged to do it. He carefully didn't cry that yet another place turned out to be fluke.

“–Another useful tool hides under the NURSE acronym. Each letter stands for Name, Understand, Respect, Support, Explore. Name means identifying the emotion–”

Level voice of the podcast lady grew more and more frustrating with each following hour he spent listening but he needed to get through it all before he met M’gann again. He couldn't mess it up and he would do it if he continued navigating the situation completely blind. He needed even the littlest amount of actual knowledge he could get.

It didn't meant that the urge to get the earphone out of his ear and chuck it somewhere in the bottomless green wasn't there or wasn't strong. He would risk losing his phone though, he wasn't sure whether hold of his pocket was stronger than the hold of his earphones wire on his phone.

At least it was good halfa-biology-kinda-sucks day (week, to be completely honest). His lungs didn't forget to breathe, his heart kept beating, his core hummed at the correct frequency instead of mimicking his heart, his ectoplasm kept in shape, his digestive system didn't get major failure… His body, no matter what form, didn't actually sabotage him in some time. It didn’t feel particularly well either, but he was going to cling to these silver linings like his sanity depended on them. Maybe it really did.

His finger twitched. Pencil, which he used to cross off potential places where he could probably find the victim, creaked in a slightly concerning manner. He hid it in the same pocket that he put his notebook in mere seconds earlier. It would do him no good if he lost either just because he forgot he was holding it (which happened embarrassingly many times in the last few weeks). He had approximately two and half hours before he arrived at his next-guess location, according to directions from the last helpful (but really annoying) ghost he met, who spent about an hour talking his ear off about how fascinating Ghost Zone geography was and, on the less annoying note, helped him sort all remaining places so he wouldn’t fly back and forth.

There was nothing around him. Ghost Zone, despite how lawless and chaotic it seemed, was fairly similar to space. It had rules that were often just hard to grasp by small human mind, had lots of beauty, once you managed to get over the constant threat of death, and had empty spaces. Tone of empty spaces. Space seemed crowded from the surface but as a nerd Danny was, he knew mostly it was void of anything. Closest star other than the Sun is as 4.25 light years or 24 984 092 897 479 miles away from Earth, closest planet, Mars is 140 000 000 miles away, Sun is as far as 92 955 807 miles and light, the fastest thing in the universe, travels it in eight minutes. Observable space is a sphere with radius of approximately 13,5 billion light years because these distances were so great that even light with its unimaginable speed needed all the time since Universe started, to travel from its source to the Earth. And it still haven't met anything on its way so it could hit humans telescopes or eyes.

Ghost Zone was really similar. Danny knew he was traveling through relatively densely inhabited area, designated Earth Sector where every dead of every race, religion, culture and generation had their own little place to spend their afterlifes. But it was still so empty at times. There were places like the one he was at the moment, where for miles and miles, as far as he could see there was nothing and no one. They were unsettling in a way, making him feel too small and dangerously exposed which was stupid because what made him feel that way was the fact that there was nobody who could make use of this fact. For miles and miles and miles. He tried to fly as fast as he could he was too exhausted to make it really matter and it wasn't sprinting distance anyway. He needed to preserve his strength. He wouldn’t make it to the Mars sector without Speeder anyway especially if Ghost Zone kept the proportions for distances between planets. Dang it, if only he could contact Wulf and get his help with teleportation. But alas, werewolf went into hiding and wasn't likely to just conveniently pop up into existence.

Danny thought he deserved at least one ‘convenient coincidence’ for all the bullshit he's been through lately.

Since he was only being for many, many miles, he let himself drop a few frustrated tears and voice a quiet sob.

First, since they didn't know anything about the woman, he had to go through way too many necrologies, where he searched for everyone with “Loving mother” but not “Beloved grandmother“ and was in right age group to have eight to twelve years old son. There were distressingly many women like this. After almost two weeks of work, he managed to narrow his search down to five ladies. Then he accessed accident reports from Detroit's Police Department. He send himself in catfish email to do it and he still found it… telling, that it actually worked. He shouldn't be able to do it, without too much problem. He should be in enough mess to need Tucker's help and be annoyed he couldn't get it. Team matters were supposed to stay between the Team after all, and he had no way of explaining why he needed to hack anything in the freaking Detroit of all places without bringing up at least some Team matters. And Robin was out because M’gann specifically asked him to not tell Team about it and, again, how else was he supposed to explain that he needed to find this one dead woman who coincidentally died the same day M’gann visited. Anyway, while he committed his minor cyber crimes he saw many things he didn't want to see ever again. Homicide. Rape. Fratricide. Clinically described stories of people dead, injured, traumatized, abused. Many without resolve because of lack of evidence or cop's negligence. Some part of him wondered if he should try solving some of them with the help of ghosts before more people got hurt. It would be a good, heroic thing to do.

And then he realized that he would have to sacrifice his remaining three hours of sleep to pull it off and he was already sacrificing it with this trip because Ghost Zone was empty like Dash’s brain and he wasn't going to make it home to eat breakfast before school probably, but he needed to check it out asap and Speeder was in repair for some reason, that was probably just his parents adding next safety hazard of the Ghost weapon on top of it, and he was tired of it, and tired of the traveling and searching, and he found right victim’s info, and of course it was three days after the funeral and now he needed to find her find her, and he only knew her name, how was he supposed to know which afterlife she’d go to, so he was flying around like a headless chicken and the idea of letting it all go and falling for eternity to the bottom of the Zone was more and more tempting with every second, fighting vehemently his fear of infinity and he had no idea how this lady would even react to him asking her for this favor and if he found her soon and she was mad about her death, he didn't even have an energy to talk her down or fight or anything really and why was it even his responsibility, why had he promised M’gann to keep jer secret, why hadn't he snitched to Black Canary first time he saw her amd podcast lady kept saying smart, useful things that he didn’t even register and he wanted to both crank her voice up so she'd make him feel less alone and drowning and crush his earphones or phone to never hear her again and, and andandand–

He screamed so loud it would break things if there was anything around it wouldn't, it wasn't his wail but he needed to feel powerful at the moment and ruffled his hair for a good thirty seconds, scratching scabs on his scalp in both painful, uncomfortable and somehow soothing manner.

He needed out. He needed out.

He needed to just not be in this situation for a moment, to close his eyes and don't think, he needed someone to help him out because he was drowning.

He needed an out.

He didn’t have an out. He fucking didn’t have and out.

He let himself cry a bit, curled as small as he could, surrounded by an unforgiving vastness of th3 Ghost Zone that seemed to press on him from every direction as if he was under high pressure and stared at despite him being so utterly alone.

“–Explore part aims to understand what our interlocutor finds the most important, what they need and what they fear–”

He dried his tears. He had a task to complete and school to attend right after. Mr. Lancer was getting really annoyed by his English naps.

“Excuse me, have you seen her around?“

“No, sorry”

******

I need you all to understand, to me at least partially the reason why Conner is so pissed in season 1 is because world is so overwhelmingly loud. 'm sure that Cadmus was somewhat soundproof, otherwise Superman or someone would find them much earlier. So now he is out and it's wonderful and so much better than he thought it would be but also he suddenly went from hearing everyone in a building (though pretty big one) to hearing everyone in the city and it's not something you can just brush off. Hence, the headphones. He doesn't wear them all the time though, because he wants to get used to noise.

As for Ghost Zone, for the purpose of this fic it's kinda like crossroads between various afterlives. You can't go to where you're spending rest of your infinity without getting through Ghost Zone and ghosts we meet in dp are either too scared to leave, designated administrators or actually in their afterlives and technically it's not a Ghost Zone anymore. So, in this fic Ghost Zone and nfinite Realms are not synonymous. In this scenario Ghost King (not Danny) isn't boss of all bosses as I've seen in few places, but more like a guy in control of Sues Channel or some other important trade road. They aren't an outright physical danger to your territory and citizens nor are they someone you'd think about often but if they freak out for some reason you're fucked.

AO3 link

Next part

[evilminji]

Back on my DpxNaruto ideas cause there's room for SHENANIGANS~!

You ever go on a BIT of a road trip? To a Really Good Restaurant you've heard exsists waaaaay that away? And it's far... but not Unreasonably Far(TM)? You could make it a day trip! Maybe check out the surrounding area! Buy some other stuff or see the sights.

You got a long weekend.

And you heard it's REAL good.

Imagine~! If you will! Broke ass, scruffy, Built Like His Father, Feral Like His Mother, "just here for the snacks, man" type College Student type Danny! A GIANT. Perpetually reeks of engineering oils and the unplace-able yet universally familiar scent of Ectoplasm. And? Probably whatever high-end self care products Sam's mom sends her, since Tucker can't use um.

He eats like a bottomless VOID because somehow he's STILL growing. Will be for centuries. Long after his HUMAN half stops? His ghost half is gonna keep going.

Sucks, man. :/

He hungy.

But he already SPENT his monthly budget on that part he desperately needed. And cheap ramen sucks after the fifth meal in a row. And it's not like he can go fishing or anything. So what to do???

Visit... lunch lady? Maybe? He considers?

He figures "Why Not?". Makes a portal and lazily floats towards the Box-Lady Lair. But? So deep in though is he? He doesn't look where he's GOING and *gentle bonk* oop! Oh man! He's so sorry!

Some giant dude in armor with a HUGE mane of hair. The guy just laughs good naturedly, says it's fine. And turns out? They're going the same way! He's part of Lunch Lady's Cooking Club. Oh, sweet! Danny's heard she started one of those...

But wait! If he's heading over? Is the club NOW?

No, no! He's assured. The guy also watchs Lunch Box for them. He's good with kids, comes with being part of a big clan.

They get talking. Danny fascinated. Ninjas, huh? Cool. And that's when? The guy drops, with no small amount of pride, the little tidbit.... that oh by the way~ no big DEAL~☆

But WE produced some of the BEST cooks in the ENTIRE known world.

:O

Okay now he HAS to try this food. This guy is waxing poetic about it. Descriptions that make him actively drool. Mentioning how this aunt ran THIS stall and that nephew was learning at THAT restaurant. And Danny just? W... Where did you say this was?

Hell yeah! Direction? Achieved!

Danny gonna get him some FANCY BBQ! \( ^ - ^ )/

Smash cut to him making a day of it. Finding the right area. Asking around. Trading some stuff from the Speeder to a dude for not only the location body but permission to take his wallet. Guy says he can have it in return for a travel chess set and a proper grave. Nice!

So he locks up the Speeder, squeezes past the weird "Summon Realms" bubbles, dodges the SUPER cranky Shinigami, aaaaand? We're in! BBQ here we come! It's takes like? Basically nothing to find the guy's body. He's supposed to burn it, put it in an urn, and deliver it to one of some Deer clan near the BBQ shop. Along with his stuff.

Hope they don't mind ice urns.

Just? Imagine A Void. Like Vanta Black. A hole in the world in the shape of where a man SHOULD be. Where ANYTHING should be. You can see through it, the color of simple existence fighting to make your eyes overlook What Is Not. Were it 2D, you know you would be able to see it clearly, but in the presence of a third dimension?

It's Not There.

You are LOOKING at it... and everything it is, is Empty. Void. A perfect Nothing.

Not hot or cold, neither light nor dark, just... Not There. With Chakra being present in all life. Air, the soil beneath you, all of it. This is? A perfect shadow upon the world. No suppressed Chakra, no hidden bloodline trick.

It's like the Patron Spirit(s) of the Ino-Shika-Cho decided to come and visit.

Or, more accurately, the SON of one such spirit decided to sneak off and visit. He has the height, the hunger, and the gregarious nature. The perfect shadow, the black hair, and the incredible intelligence. And those blue eyes? The ability to dive into bodies and take them over? (He wanted to see if he could do it WHILE his "new friend" was doing it to someone)

Most terrifying, though? APPARENTLY his mother? Was some Uzumaki Spirit. Red hair, purple eyes, his dad fell in love with her at first ass-kicking defeat. Terrifying women and Nara's, man. Good to know it even transcends biology. Even their GAURDIAN SPIRITS fall to it.

Now the question?

What sort is THIS one? And can they, POLITELY, make it leave?

@babbling-babull @lolottes @ailithnight @nerdpoe @hdgnj @hypewinter @mutable-manifestation @the-witchhunter

[thollandsgirl2013]

𝐄𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐞 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬: 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑

Parings → Danny Sullivan x Reader

Warnings → Personality disorder, 18+, violence, language, blood, angst, fluff

A/N : This fanfic series does not follow the original series.

Summary → Danny Sullivan, your best friend, who has personality disorder. After you find out about his disorder you try to help him as much as you can.

Masterlist / Chapter 4

You never thought you'd see Danny like this. The day had been tense, but it took a darker turn when word spread around school—Danny had gotten into a fight. Not just any fight, but a full-on brawl with Annabelle’s boyfriend and his two friends. Annabelle’s boyfriend had thrown the first punch, but Danny… he finished it. Badly. You couldn’t believe it when you heard the details. Danny wasn’t the type to get into fights, let alone beat up three guys. He wasn’t that strong, and he certainly wasn’t that angry. But something had changed.

By the time you made it to the scene, the fight was over, and Danny was gone. Blood stained the ground, and whispers floated around about how Annabelle’s boyfriend was being taken to the nurse. Two other guys were limping away. It didn’t make sense. How could Danny have done this? It didn’t fit the shy, gentle boy you’d known for so long.

Worried, you asked around until someone mentioned seeing Danny running out of the school grounds, heading toward the old abandoned house everyone called the Ghost House. No one lived there anymore. It was run down, creepy, and avoided by everyone—except, apparently, Danny.

You didn’t waste a second. Grabbing your bag, you left school and followed his trail, your heart pounding with worry. What was going on with him? The way he had been talking to himself, acting differently… and now this?

---

When you reached the Ghost House, you hesitated for a moment. The place was as eerie as everyone said—windows boarded up, paint peeling, and an unsettling silence hanging in the air. You pushed open the creaky door and stepped inside, the dim light casting long shadows on the dusty floor.

“Danny?” You called out softly, your voice barely above a whisper. You didn’t want to scare him, but you needed to know he was okay.

You followed the sound of faint whispers down the hall, leading you to the living room. And there he was, sitting in the corner, his clothes stained with blood, his knuckles raw and bruised. But what chilled you the most was that he was talking to someone.

Except… there was no one there.

“I'm sorry, I didn't know what to do,” Danny muttered, his voice low. “Thanks for saving me, Yitzak.”

Your stomach dropped as you watched him turn to the side as if speaking to an invisible figure. Then, his tone changed completely—softer, more feminine. “You should’ve left before it got that far,” he said, his voice now holding an edge of hesitation, a different personality. “Ariana doesn’t like bloody mess.”

You stepped closer, but Danny didn’t notice you at first. His eyes darted between the empty spaces around him, as if following a conversation between two people you couldn’t see.

“Danny?” You finally said, your voice shaking as you tried to steady yourself. “What are you doing here? How did you… how did you beat those guys?”

He flinched when he saw you, his expression shifting from confusion to fear. “Y/N? What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in school.”

You ignored his question, too caught up in your own. “How did you beat three guys? Danny, you’re not… you’re not like that.”

Danny’s gaze dropped to his hands, still stained with blood. He swallowed hard, and his voice cracked as he said, “Me? I didn’t… Yitzak beat them.”

You froze. “Yitzak? Danny, there’s no one here.”

Danny shook his head, panic flashing across his face. “No, no, you don’t understand. Yitzak is… he’s strong. He’s angry all the time, but he protects me. And Ariana… she’s the calm one. She’s right there, see?” He pointed to an empty corner of the room, where no one stood.

Your heart raced as you tried to process what was happening. This wasn’t Danny talking—it was something else entirely. “Danny, you’re scaring me. There’s no one here but us.”

He looked back at you, fear in his eyes. “You don’t believe me? I swear, Yitzak beat them. He did it for me, so I didn’t get badly hurt. And Ariana… she keeps me safe. I don’t want to go home, Y/N. I can’t go back. I don’t want him to hurt me again.”

You knelt in front of him, your hands trembling as you tried to reach him. “Danny, please. I’m here. I’m your friend. Talk to me. What’s happening to you?”

Danny’s voice wavered as he pleaded, “Please, Y/N… will you stay with me? I don’t want to be alone. I’m scared. I don’t know what’s happening to me either. I don’t want to go home.”

His words shattered something inside you. You could see the fear and confusion on his face, the way he was struggling to make sense of his own thoughts. Whatever was happening, Danny was terrified—and so were you.

Without hesitation, you nodded, pulling him into a tight hug. “Okay,” you whispered. “I’ll stay. I’m not going anywhere. We’ll figure this out together, I promise.”

Danny clung to you, his body shaking as if he was holding on for dear life. “Thank you,” he murmured into your shoulder, his voice small and fragile.

You held him, heart aching as you realized the extent of what he was going through. Something was deeply wrong, and you needed to find out what. But for now, all that mattered was that you were there for him, no matter how confusing or terrifying things became.

─── ༓･*˚⁺‧ ꕥ ༓･*˚⁺‧ ───

[spockvarietyhour]

Una Magnum Special per Tony Saitta (1976)

[waltwhitmansbeard]

Perc'ahlia Week Day 2: Darkness/Legacy

day 2 of @percahliaweek! ngl this one got away from me. also available on ao3!

BOOM.

Percy jolts upright, eyes straining in the darkness. Only by the sliver of moonlight peering through the heavy drapes is he able to see Vex beside him, shoving herself up from her own pillow. "Was that—"

"A gunshot." Saying the word out loud kicks something inside Percy into gear, and he twists around to fumble for his glasses on the nightstand.

"Oh gods." Vex throws back the covers. "The kids."

They hurl themselves out of bed, hurtle toward the door, Vex pausing only to snatch her dressing gown from where she'd hung it on one of the bed's posters. Still, she's faster than he is, doesn't have the aging knees that he has. Without discussing it, they split up once they reach the wing of the castle that houses the children's bedrooms. Percy gets to Danny's room first, and when he creaks the door open, the low lights from the hall sconces light up the riot of curls on his pillow. He closes the door just in time for the one next door to open.

"Dad?" Vesper rubs at her eyes, her hair braided over one shoulder exactly the way her mother taught her.

"Go back into your room."

"Did I hear a gunshot?"

Before Percy can answer, Vex is there, her face drawn. "Gwen's fine, but the twins' rooms are empty."

The shadows pull long as her words settle onto his shoulders like a mantle. The twins are gone. There was a gunshot. Percy can feel each and every heartbeat in his throat. Vesper's face is pale as her hair. Percy tries to regulate the tremble in his hand as he grips onto his eldest's shoulder, but he's sure she can feel it when he says, "Please stay here and keep an eye on them." He watches the resolve harden in her eye, her spine every inch her mother's. She nods.

They can hear them now, the roused guards within and without, but they simply cannot wait. Percy and Vex tear back to their bedroom, each yanking on boots and grabbing the weapon that, even all these years later, is never far from hand. They must pass three dozen guards before they make it to the grand foyer, where Captain Leore is waiting for them. "Lord and Lady de Rolo, scouts report the gunshot came from the Parchwood on the western edge of the castle grounds."

"Search the castle from top to bottom for the twins," Vex commands, her voice a godly echo among the marble. "They're unaccounted for. We're joining the hunt outside."

There is no argument, not when the Lady of Whitestone speaks. The captain ducks his head in a bow and is off, instructing the surrounding guards to begin the tossing of Castle Whitestone. Percy shares one more look with his wife—he is equal parts terrified and admiring, and he hopes she can tell them apart—before they shove out together onto the sprawling blue-black lawns of the castle grounds.

The moon is waning, hardly brighter than the surrounding stars, so they charge forward in inky darkness. She can see better than he can, of course, so he lets her take the lead. She's also far more intimately familiar with these woods at this point, spending so much time with the Grey Hunt as she does, so when they reach the treeline and what little light they had is swallowed wholly by the thick canopy above, he relies on the sound of her footsteps over the leaf litter to figure out where she's going.

It's torturous, this hunt, when Percy can see nothing and has no idea what he's hunting. He should have stayed inside, should be helping search for his missing children, but he knows, he knows they're not in there, the way he knows the weapon in his hand, the way he knows the woman in front of him, and so he inches forward, waiting, hoping for—

"Don't move!" Vex's sharp command is punctuated by the familiar creak of her bow being raised, and Percy whips his own pistol into the air, even though he has no clue what to aim for. There's a distant crunch of footsteps, one, then another, and then a small, "Mum?"

"Wolfe!" And then Vex is running, and Percy is lost. He tries to stumble after her, but she's too quick, too consumed with asking their son a thousand questions at once. "Are you hurt? What are you doing here? Did you hear the gunshot? Where is your sister?"

"Vex'ahlia." Percy hates that he has to ask, but he is blind.

Vex sniffs. "Right, sorry darling." There's some fumbling, and then Vex, more at home in the woods than he think she'll ever be in a castle, lifts up the small torch she's made of fallen twigs.

She's standing just a few yards away, next to Wolfe, who is dressed in dark clothes and who, Percy can see now, has blood on his hands. His stomach swoops low, a high buzz of panic in his ear. He charges forward, grabs Wolfe by the arm. "Where is your sister?"

The boy—for gods' sake, he is just a boy, a kid, scarcely out of leading strings—swallows hard, then whispers, "There was an accident." Before Percy can pass out, Wolfe continues, "Follow me."

Then he spins, breaking out of Percy's grasp—just a boy, but then, Percy is no longer young himself—and charging deeper into the Parchwood. Percy can't even look at Vex as they follow, can't see the terror in her eyes that courses through his own veins. There was an accident. Is this fate, then? An accident, one twin ripped from the other, a lifetime of absence, a limb severed—

"Le, I found them!" Wolfe crashes to the forest floor behind a massive oak, and Percy and Vex come around, hearts racing and breath short, to see their daughter slumped against the roots, her wild dark curls matted and filled with debris, both hands clutching her side. Beside her, one of the Rifle Corps' weapons glints threateningly in the light from Vex's torch.

"Holy shit!" Percy barely has the wherewithal to catch the torch that Vex launches at him as she collapses to Leona's side. He watches blood gurgle up between Leona's fingers, her face pale and expression weak. "Darling, look at me."

"Hey, Mum," Leona says with a halfhearted smile. "Funny seeing you here."

"It's alright, dear, I've got you." Vex gently pries Leona's hands away, humming apologetically when she hisses in pain, and then settles her own fingers over the wound. Within a few seconds, Vex's magic works its way into her skin, the edges stitching themselves back together.

Leona lets out a big sigh, her eyes sliding shut. "That...that helps."

Vex's arms snatch Leona up, clutching her to her chest. "You scared the shit out of us, both of you."

Wolfe starts to stammer, an apology, an explanation, Percy's not sure, but he doesn't get the chance to say anything, because Percy grabs him by the collar and shoves him mercilessly against a nearby tree. "Are you fucking proud of yourself?"

"D-Dad, I—"

Percy brings the torch close to his face, so the heat makes sweat bead along his brow, so he can see the fear and shame in his eyes. "Where did you get it?" Wolfe's completely blanched, his mouth gaping like a fish's. "Answer me!"

"I took it!"

The torch light dances as Percy's hand shakes. "Percival..." Vex's warning does little to pacify him. "And what, just decided to shoot your sister?"

"Dad, it was my fault." From behind him, Percy can hear Leona try to straighten up, but Vex fusses to press her back down. "I tried to take it from him, it's my fault we were tugging over it—"

"I just wanted to try it out, I swear I didn't mean to do anything, I was gonna put it back in the morning—"

Wolfe is fully sobbing now, and he should be. A few inches in, and there is a new de Rolo to add to the crypt beneath Castle Whitestone. A few inches in, and Wolfe lives the rest of his life knowing the exquisite agony that his mother will carry with her to her grave.

He tightens his fingers in Wolfe's shirt. He wants to explode, to set the Parchwood ablaze, to search each and every square inch of Exandria until he has recovered the last of the evil he has wrought upon this world. His daughter almost died tonight, at the hands of her brother, with one of the weapons that Percy himself built.

"This is my fault." He lets go of Wolfe, who shrinks down against the tree trunk, his dark eyes, his mother's eyes, wet and wide. "This is my legacy. Both of you." He turns to look at Leona, who's crying now as well, before looking down at the gun on the ground, so silent and still. "That too. I thought maybe I could pick and choose. If I brought enough good into this world, I could eclipse all the bad I created." He steps away from Wolfe to pick up the gun, quickly spilling all of its remaining ammunition onto the forest floor before tucking it into the pocket of his pajama trousers. "We can discuss the ways your lives will be miserable for the foreseeable future in the morning. For now..." He shoves the torch at Wolfe, who scrambles to take it. "Come on, let's get home."

He's still trembling as he and Vex lift Leona to her feet. The wound is healed, but she's still sore. She's too big for Percy to carry now, or maybe he's too old, but either way, she has to walk with one arm around each of her parents' necks, and it is a slow, limping walk back toward the castle.

Wolfe leads the way, lighting the path so Percy can see where he's going. When there's a bit of space between them, Leona turns her head to whisper, "It really was an accident, Daddy. It's no one's fault."

He offers her what smile he can, because she, too, is just a kid, and she doesn't know that she's wrong. There is so much fault, so much blame to go around, but it is late, and it can wait until later.

"Don't worry about it now, cub." He kisses her cheek. "I'm just...very happy you're okay."

"Me too."

He tightens his arm around her, feels the even in-and-out of her lungs, and prays to whichever god is listening that the lights of his life are never snuffed out by his legacy of darkness.

[hauntedjohnny]

A PROPER KISS

connie taylor/julie crawford

wc: 2k summary: a dive into connie's history of kisses as a game of spin the bottle adds another one to the list

"Aren't we a bit old for spin the bottle?" Connie mumbled into the beer bottle, downing the drink at the thought.

Sonny chuckled under his breath, grabbing the now-empty bottle from her hand. "And you call me the stick-in-the-mud?"

Connie opened her mouth in retort, but Sonny cut it off with a teasing finger waggle. "You go sit your ass down. Imma get you another drink to drown your sorrows."

Connie's eyes followed his finger, now pointing at the crowd of intoxicated teens gathering around the stained shag rug that sat in the middle of the room. Her mouth closed into a thin lip to prevent an annoyed huff from escaping, arms crossed as she surveyed the faces of her potential suitors. Boys and girls alike hung off each other, eager to drunkenly kiss. Nerves began to knot in her stomach; yes, she had kissed people before, but never for a crowd of voyeurs.

It was only when Connie's worried eyes met Julie's that the knots loosened. Her grey eyes twinkled when Danny leant forward to whisper in her ear, never breaking eye contact, even when she pushed at his chest with a giggle. Now with her full attention on Connie, her tanned hand raised and ushered the redhead towards the group. She feigned consideration with a scrunched face before shaking her head. Unswayed, Julie's lower lip pushed against her top as she tilted her head, eyes filled with pleas. Connie always prided herself on her stubbornness, but tonight she lowered her head with a defeated sigh, a warmth blooming in her cheeks as she's reminded how easily she crumbles under Julie's gaze. Those damn puppy eyes.

Julie's eyes continued to burn into Connie's figure as she shuffled her way to the circle, feet dragging in reluctance as she scoped out a point of entry. She knelt between two girls she recognised from her biology lectures before a large shadow loomed over her to place a glass bottle in the centre of the group. Everyone perked up and quietened down as the shadow declared the beginning of the game. Connie stared as the bottle glimmered in the low light of the basement, turning into a blur as it chose its victim. Distracted by a loose thread on her trousers, the shrill cheers sounded so far away as she shrank into her memories.

As a child, most afternoons were spent at her neighbour's house while her parents finished up the day's work on their farm; homework at the dining table before they were allowed to run around until her parents called for dinner. George was in the same grade, so their parents thought they'd make good friends, sometimes poking at the potential for more. They were right—almost. She spent hours playing with George until their knees were slick with mud and their hair was tangled in knots, with George's older sister keeping watch from the porch as she flicked through a book. Connie never admitted it to anyone, but her favourite moments weren't with George at all but rather with his sister, Jane; she buzzed whenever she would help with a troublesome math problem or gossip with her as she waited for her parents. She had a smile that could light up a room and a voice that could melt the hearts of the wicked. Jane was everything Connie wanted to be. Jane was everything Connie wanted.

Subconsciously, she began spending more time at their house, coming over on weekends, staying over for dinner. More time with George meant more fleeting moments with Jane. Until, one night, Jane brought a boy over for dinner. An unfamiliar twist burrowed in Connie's chest as they shared a kiss before sitting down to eat. His mother lightly scolded George as he gagged at the display of affection before exposing his newfound feelings to the table. Something about a certain redhead making his heart feel funny. Connie was oblivious to the conversation unraveling in front of her, one hand indenting her cheek as the other pushed around the peas on her plate; she was scouring her brain as to why she didn't feel so good, but she couldn't find the reason. She wanted to go home.

The flickering light of the porch greeted her farewell as she left that night, giggles from the open window souring her already bad mood. George stood by the front door, admiring Connie as she picked up her bike from the floor and turned back to wave. Hearing the taunting voice of his mother in his head, he impulsively ran towards her and pushed his lips against hers. Connie stood frozen with confusion and embarrassment. Teeth clashed against her bottom lip as panic bubbled in her gut. She tried her best not to scrunch up her nose as she felt his warm breath on her nose. Without thought, her clenched hands moved to his chest to push him away. She refused to meet his eye as she got on her bike and pedalled away, leaving George in the glimmering glow of his porch. Her mind raced as she rubbed the sleeve of her shirt against her lips until they were raw. Her first kiss disappeared into the horizon behind her. She never went back.

Homosexuality was never a subject of conversation in her household—that is, until it became legalised in Illinois. She never understood why her mother spat in disgust at the news. It's not proper. Connie instinctually scoffed at the word. Proper. Connie, you can't wear trousers to church; it's not proper. Connie, you can't spend the evenings playing outside anymore; it's not proper. Connie, you can't get a job in science; it's not proper. Connie was never proper enough for her. The idea of being a housewife made her gag. The idea of being with a man made her gag. She thought her kiss with George was due to the childish 'cooties' mentality, but as she grew, her friends started to date and spoke in awe about how magical the feeling felt. She knew she wasn't like them. She wished she was—prayed every night until she was 14. A new couple moved in down the way at 14; that's when she knew this life was something she could obtain. It's when she knew she could be different. But, based on the town's reaction to difference, she knew that her life couldn't be found in Paris, Illinois.

Her second kiss confirmed her suspicions. Bradley, the boy who asked her to prom. She'd considered not going to prom until her mother harped on about it every mealtime. After numerous arguments, she bought the first dress she saw and said yes to the first guy who asked. One night of torture before her inevitable freedom. Standing in the doorway, feeling like a dress-up doll, she forced a smile on her face as Bradley's arm tentatively hovered above her waist. A flash from the camera blinded her as her mother cooed behind the camera. My pretty girl growing up to be a proper lady. The smile on Connie's face melted into a grimace at the word. Why don't you give us a kiss? A familiar panic bubbled in her gut. Connie's eyes flickered to Bradley's as she held her breath, the grimace never leaving her face. Bradley complied, giving a quick peck to the corner of her mouth as another flash of white captured the moment. The moment Connie decided she never wanted to kiss a boy again.

The thought of kissing some random college boy in a dingy basement caused her heart to drum against her chest. The thought of kissing some random college girl in a dingy basement made it drum harder. Would they laugh and jeer? Would they know? Connie wasn't ready to find out. She wiped her clammy hands against her trousers to try and soothe herself, eyes jumping from person to person as if someone were listening to her thoughts. Taking a deep breath, she watched the smoke dance around the light fixture above them. Unaware, a sea of eyes turned to stare at her tense form. A nudge to her shoulder brought her eyes to the bottle, staring down the barrel of the gun. The chosen victim.

Like a deer in headlights, Connie's eye caught Julie's; two energies with complementary polarities attracted to each other, bound by space and time to be brought together. Their magnetic field repelled the rest of the world, merely observers on the outside. Resistance was futile. Julie crawled through the circle towards her prey. Hypnotised by the way her beaded necklace swung back-and-forth, Connie began drowning in the sea of Julie, stormy eyes, now inches from her own.

She had felt the warmth of Julie's hand on her skin before—on her back when guided through a crowd, on her hand when passed a pencil, on her arm when Julie laughed so hard she needed to hold on to something. On her thigh, however, the hand felt heavy, burning a hole into the fabric of her trousers. Her other hand brushed a stray hair to reveal her face, gently cupping her chin. The gesture left a trail of sparks along her face, the warmth spreading across her cheeks. Julie's circling thumb gently soothed the burn, eyes flicking down to slightly chapped lips. Connie rolled her tongue over the cracks, insecurity stirring as the light reflected off Julie's glossed ones. Green met grey once again. A stand-off between friends.

For the first time, Connie's brain felt empty. The only thing she could think of was Julie—the smell of her coconut moisturiser, the feeling of her strong fingers running through her hair, the taste of her honey lip-gloss. Her brain couldn't catch up to the feeling. Julie clouded her mind, like the smoke swirling above, suffocating her until she dizzied. Connie gasped for a breath she didn't know she needed, grasping the brunette's cradling wrist to ground herself. Julie's warm breath against hers was a lifeline, the cogs in her brain springing into action as the air entered her lungs. She started kissing back. It was as natural as breathing. It felt proper.

Julie's hand laced deeper into Connie's hair, threads of red entangled between her fingers. She pulled the girl closer as their tongues brushed together, causing Connie to raise from her numbed ankles in ecstasy. Eyes flutter closed as a soft whimper gets swallowed by Julie, her mouth curling at the sound for her ears only. Before she could let out another sound, Julie pulled away, wiping Connie's lips with her thumb. All Connie could do was stare with a dumbfounded glaze in her eyes as their chests rose and fell in harmony. Julie lingers for a moment longer, memorising the sight of Connie's swollen lips complementing the blush on her cheeks. The sound of Julie's soft laugh causes a smile to creep onto Connie's face. A solemn oath between friends.

Noise from the crowd did nothing to lessen the feeling of pride in Connie's chest, embarrassment turning into a mere memory. Ginger strands fell in her face as she tried to hide her growing smile. Julie's eyes never left her as she returned to her place in the circle, only breaking contact when another person leant forward to continue the game. Connie peered up between her eyelashes to watch Julie retreat, the girl casually leaning back against Danny as if she hadn't just changed Connie's life. Everyone moved on without a second thought, cheering as the bottle chose its next victim. The weight on her shoulder lessened. Breathing felt easier. She may not have gotten the girl, but she got what she needed. Maybe she would be okay.

A sudden sensation of cool condensation on her arm ruined the moment, shocking her system as she jumped at the intrusion. Sonny had returned with her sorrow-drowning drink, but she no longer had any sorrows to drown.

"Did I miss anything?" Sonny inquires, raising a knowing eyebrow at Connie's warm cheeks and glazed eyes.

Connie simply shakes her head, grabbing the bottle to take a sip, the coolness calming her singing fingers. Sonny continued to analyse her as she refused to meet his eye, turning her head away from the inspection. Something glistening in the dim glow caught his eye.

"You have a lil something..." Sonny trailed off with a smirk, reaching to wipe the sticky substance from the corner of Connie's mouth.

Connie swiped at his hand, begrudgingly removing the remnants of the kiss herself. Her cool fingers lingered, electricity buzzing between the tips and her tingling lips. Sonny chuckled knowingly at the sight, resulting in a jab to the ribs.

"Shut it, Williams."

[famousnerdtragedy]

Guardians of Time

Based on Blood & Treasure

The streets of Cairo buzzed with life, a symphony of sounds and colors merging under the relentless sun. Amidst the chaos, Dr. Elena Rios navigated the bustling marketplace with a purpose. Her eyes, sharp and discerning, scanned the crowd as she clutched her worn leather satchel. Elena was more than just an archaeologist; she was a Guardian, a member of a secret organization dedicated to protecting artifacts from falling into the wrong hands. Her latest mission: intercept a stolen artifact linked to the Brotherhood of Serapis.

Elena's intel suggested the handoff would occur at a secluded café. As she approached, she spotted two familiar faces: Danny McNamara and Lexi Vaziri, the dynamic duo known for their treasure-hunting exploits. They were seated at a corner table, their expressions a mix of anticipation and caution.

"Danny, Lexi," Elena greeted them, sliding into an empty chair. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Elena," Danny responded, surprise evident in his voice. "What brings you to Cairo?"

"Same as you, I suspect," she replied, her gaze shifting to Lexi. "The Serapis medallion."

Lexi's eyes narrowed. "How do you know about that?"

Elena leaned in, lowering her voice. "Because I'm here to make sure it doesn't fall into the wrong hands. The Guardians have been tracking its movements for months."

Danny nodded, understanding dawning on his face. "The Guardians... I've heard rumors. An organization dedicated to protecting history."

"Exactly," Elena confirmed. "And right now, that means stopping the Brotherhood of Serapis."

Just then, a hooded figure entered the café, drawing their attention. The figure approached the counter, glancing around nervously. Lexi's hand moved to her concealed weapon, ready for action.

"That's our contact," Elena whispered. "He's supposed to hand off the medallion to a Brotherhood operative."

They watched as the figure made a quick exchange with a man in a suit, who then slipped out the back door. Elena and Lexi exchanged a nod and quietly followed, leaving Danny to settle the bill.

Outside, the man in the suit moved swiftly through the alleys. Elena's training kicked in as she signaled to Lexi, directing their pursuit. They trailed him to an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city.

Inside, the air was thick with dust and tension. Crates and artifacts were scattered about, relics of forgotten times. The man in the suit approached a pedestal in the center of the room, placing the medallion atop it.

"Welcome, Guardian," a voice echoed, causing Elena to spin around. A tall figure emerged from the shadows, his eyes gleaming with malevolent intent. "I've been expecting you."

"Azim," Elena spat, recognizing the leader of the Brotherhood of Serapis. "You're too late. The medallion will never be yours."

Azim laughed, a cold, hollow sound. "We shall see."

Before Elena could react, the room erupted in chaos. Danny and Lexi burst in, weapons drawn, as Brotherhood operatives swarmed from hidden passages. The fight was fierce and relentless, a clash of wills and skill.

Elena focused on Azim, their battle a whirlwind of punches and counterattacks. Her training and determination fueled her movements, each strike precise and calculated. Finally, with a decisive blow, she knocked Azim to the ground, securing the medallion.

Panting, Elena stood over him. "This belongs to history, not to your twisted ambitions."

Danny and Lexi subdued the remaining operatives, ensuring the medallion's safety. As the dust settled, Elena looked at her newfound allies.

"Thank you," she said, her voice sincere. "The Guardians owe you a debt."

Danny smiled. "Consider it a mutual alliance. After all, protecting history is something we all believe in."

Lexi nodded, her expression softening. "Until the next adventure, then."

Elena smiled back, feeling a sense of camaraderie and purpose. Together, they would face whatever challenges lay ahead, united in their quest to safeguard the treasures of the past.

[jadedwolf18-blog]

Do what you will with this!

This has bugged me for three days! Here’s a one shot.

��🖤💚💙💚🖤🤍

Damian huffed. On the last outing, he’d had with his mother, he’d seen a pair of siblings interacting.

The five year old hadn’t paid them much attention at first, focus held by his mother as she explained how his youth could be used to his advantage, but then the younger of the two began throwing a tantrum.

*****

Damien watched as the mother went to coddle the younger, as the older snuck snacks from the bag hooked on the stroller. once the younger brother calmed, the older brother stepped away from the bag and once the mother returned to her conversation, went around to the younger and presented the snacks. While the incompetent mother was ignorent to her children’s deception, the siblings enjoyed their spoils.

That day, the thought of having a partner so loyal and to help with his future tasks, having a sibling was cemented in a young Damien’s mind.

Upon returning to Nanda Parbat, Damien made it his personal mission to procure a sibling.

*****

It had been three weeks since then and his mother had yet to yield to his demands for a sibling. He new he was testing her patience. Grandfather had even stepped in to reprimand him, he knew his Grandfather would not be so lenient if it happened a second time but neither of them had listened to his reasoning. They stated that any attachment would make him weak.

“Tt!” He had made up his mind. If Mother and Grandfather would not see the benefit and use of a sibling then he would procure one himself and show them. A plan in mind, he went to his room. He would have to wait until nightfall before he could act.

*****

Damien crept along the walls and stuck to the shadows. Remaining silent, even when he wished to express his pride, as he entered the chamber that held the glowing green water.

He had seen it one ce, his Mother had explained that the ‘Lazarus Pits’ were what gave the Al Ghuls’ their superior blood. Surely, if his blood relations came from the pits then all he had to do was ask them for a sibling. The worst that could happen would be that the pits don’t grant his request. No one would know if he returned to his rooms before they were found empty. The young boy slowly stepped before the pits and kneeled just at the edge.

“Pits of Lazarus, I request a sibling, someone who will be loyal to me and that I can rely on to never betray me.” He paused for only a moment before continuing in an even quieter voice. “I do not wish to be alone any longer.”

The pits remains still and Damien bowed his head but before he could get up to leave, the pits began to glow brighter and the gentle sound of a music box began to fill the once quiet cavern.

*****

Danny drifted through the Infinite Realms. They’d not had a great week. The GIW had swarmed Amity Park. Stormed the school and he was forced to reveal themself as Phantom to the whole town. His parents had not taken it well…

They flipped onto their stomach and looked down at the islands below. Their life, half life, hadn’t gone like he had thought it would when they were younger. They had dreamed of going to space as an astronaut, studying astrophysics and engineering. Not fighting ghosts and becoming the Ghost King by the age of fifteen. Now at the age of eighteen, they found themselves alone drifting aimlessly, they had no home to go back to in the human realm.

Two years of drifting, occasionally sorting something out as required by their position as High King but ultimately they were alone. They had tried to keep their friendship with Sam and Tucker but the stress had ended up being to much for them and eventually they just stopped trying. With Jazz… Danny had been the on to stop. They hadn’t wanted to be the reason she quit studying and gave up on her dream.

So, Danny destroyed the Fenton Portal and cut themself off from the human realm.

Something caught their eye on one of the islands. Flying down to get a better look, it was a city. Deciding they had nothing better to do, the flew around and explored, it had a Gothic aesthetic that they found interesting, especially with the more modern glass structures interspersed along the richer looking side of town.

“Hello young King.” Danny spun around at the soft voice, coming face to face with the ghost of a woman. She was dressed in what must have been the peek fashion of the 1920s, a deep almost black green flapper dress that fell just above her ankles, silver kitten heels draped to her feet and a silver circlet with a feather fascinator attached to it. Her cocoa skin was tinged purple and her her eyes shone yellow. She had a soft smile on her face.

“Hello, is this your Haunt?” Landing on the ground, Danny settled into a relaxed stance. “I apologize for intruding. I was fascinated by the unique architecture.”

“Its quiet alright, Young King, I enjoy company. I’m sure you’ve noticed, the streets are empty and those who reside here remain within their haunts.” She was quiet for a moment. “It did not used to be this way. Their was a trime where it’s streets were filled with noise and cheer.”

“What happened? Is there anything I can do to help?” She looked at him for a long while.

“I do not know if you would accept my request. But I will tell you about my city.” Her gaze turned to the empty streets. “Many years ago, the dimension my city resides in was cut off from the Infinite Realms. I do not know the exact reason or circumstance but I do know it was the fault of a man’s greed. He employed mages and wizards, all types of magically inclined humans in order to secure a natural portal he had found. The reason being, it has healed a grievous wound and he wish to covet it.” She began to glide through the city, motioning for Danny to follow her through the streets. Danny remained silent as they followed and listened.

“What he did not know is that by blocking off the portal, he blocked the spirits of my dimension from passing through. It created an imbalance. Souls were trapped and suffering began in my city that had once been prosperous. Families could no longer reunite in the Realm of the Dead. Ghosts flocked to my city in the living realm and as the oldest spirit of my dimension, I could not help them pass through. I am trapped within the realms with limited access to my living city. I can only aid my newly formed Knight and his fright so much before my influence tires me.”

Danny looked around as they noticed they were no longer in the city but a cave. Confused they turned to the other ghost. “So how can I help you and them?”

“This is the original portal that was blocked off. See how if festers and rots from its misuse.” Danny leaned in to look at it, taking note of the darker color and hints of black. “So how can we unblock it?”

“it can not be unblocked from this side. You would have to work together with one who has a connection with my Knight.” Before Danny could turn and ask more, they felt a push and the dark ooze of the portal latched onto them. “Please, take care of my Knight and his fright. The youngest will lead you to him. Do not trust the young ones mother.”

Danny wondered how this was their life. The last thing they heard was the sound of a music box and the parting words of the ghost.

“Take care my Young King. I, Mother Gotham shall aid you as much as I can from within the realms.” Danny’s world went dark. “Please forgive me, my ghosting child.”

*****

“He will hate me.”

“All is as it should be Lady Gotham. The Young King will understand and they will forgive you. Daniel may not know it but they will feel it. You have kept you distance for much longer than I thought you would.”

“I did not want to burden him so soon. I had wished to spend more time with my ghostling.” Lady Gotham shot the old Clock a glare only to receive a smirk in response.

“You truly have claimed them as your own.”

“I was the one to push them back into the living realm. It was I who found them first. Had it not been for the state of my realm… I would have gone to them at the start.”

“You do not have to justify yourself to me, Lady Gotham, I understand quit well how on can get attached to that child.”

Silence fell between the two ancient beings.

“Brother, be honest, will Phantom be happy?”

“Yes, Sister. It will not be easy, especially in the beginning and the Young King will certainly curse my name a multitude of times but they will be happy when all is said and done.”

“Thank you, Brother.”

“Fear not, Sister, Danny’s happiness will not be their’s alone. Your other ghostlings will join them in time.” With that the Ghost of Time blinked out of sight. Leaving The Ghost of Passage with a soft smile on her face.

*****

Young Damien watched in awe as the pits rose up onto the shore and retreated, returning to its usual glow. Crawling to the little lump that was left near its edge, the assassin child let out a soft gasp as they took in the small baby before him. Wispy white locks and dressed in a strange body suit. Gently the boy picked up and cradled the baby, shocked to see wide Lazarus green eyes staring at him. They sat and stared for a good while before a flash of light almost blinded them. Once it died down, the were met with bright blue eyes before they shut and the baby was asleep. Taking in the rest of the baby, Damien nod in satisfaction, they were dress in something similar to his own clothes. Now all his sibling needed was a name. “You shall be known as Danyal. You will be my most loyal follower and I will teach you the ways of infiltration, deception, stealth and most importantly how to get extra sweets from the kitchen.

*****

Damien was pleased. His Mother and Grandfather had finally accepted Danyal after a full day of arguing. His younger brother was already providing to be useful.

*****

It had been two years since Danny had found themself turned into a baby and the younger brother of a strange little assassin child. They had to admit, it was rather amusing to see all the highly trained assassins frightened of a toddler, granted, they were a powerful toddler but no less funny.

Currently, Damien was telling them the story of how Danny had come to be. The kid was convinced the pit was where babies came from. Danny had laughed the entire day, when they had tried to explain the truth to Damien the day before. The lesson had ended when Damien had stormed out and called the teachers ‘incompetent imbeciles’.

Their thoughts were cut off when they felt a familiar ecto-signature. ‘Elle?’ Danny leaned forward, ignoring Damien’s attempts to hold them back. Going on a hunch they called out. “Sister?”

Damien fell silent. Danny could not talk like they used to. It would seem that, although they retained all their memories and abilities, their physical body had to relearn everything.

The pits bubbled and rose then fell back, leaving behind a baby. Damien looked at his younger brother, the new baby and the pits then the baby again. Going over and picking… her up Damien sat down as Danyal drew closer. Damien examine his new sister and found she looked much like Danyal had when he was left by the pit. White hair, wide green eyes and a strange black and white suit. He expected the the flash this time and was not surprised to find black hair and blue eyes when he opened his own. Looking at Danyal he nod. Yes, having a sibling was the superior path and was proven by the fact that his younger brother had gifted him another loyal follower. They will now be able to cover more ground.

A noise cause the brothers to look up. At seeing his tutors Damien presented his new sister to them. “Meet Dania. The Pits gifted her to me as proof that you were false in your information.”

He did not notice the wary looks on his Mother’s and Grandfather’s faces from where they stood by the entrance.

*****

It was another two years later when his sister and the pits gifted him another younger brother, Danior. Damien was quite pleased. His newest brother was more viscous than the other two but that was not saying much. The nine year old was happy that he had such loyal followers. They only deferred to him and though the older two were rather dismissive of the other assassins the youngest delights in tormenting them, even as young as he was. But if any of the assassins tried to harm Damien or any of his siblings, then the fools were quick to find that it was best to be ignored than to be in their sights.

*****

“Father… the pits seem to grant Damien a… sibling every two years. Perhaps it would be best to send him, them, to their father. To train with the Batman.” Thalia was stressed, she could swear those beings were plotting her murder. She wanted them gone, even if it cost them the Heir to the Demon’s head. She knew she would not get her son back if she gave him to her beloved but… those pit demons had to go.

“Hmm, I would normally be against this but given the circumstances, I shall allow it.”

“Thank you Father.”

*****

Bruce stared at the boy from behind his cowl. Thalia had left with only a, “They’re yours now!”

Gone before Bruce could even ask what she meant. It was only when the boy stepped out of the shadows, did he understand.

”Hello, Father. I thought you would be taller.” The ten year old then proceeded to introduce a five year old. “This is your second eldest Danyal.”

A three year old. “This is you second youngest and only daughter, Dania.”

And a one year old. “And this is your youngest son, Danior.”

Bruce was going to need a drink. And will most definitely not be picking up any more kids in the future. He had enough now as it is, it would seem.

*****

Danny was confused with the way their life was turning out but they couldn’t say it was boring. And if they got to experience a, not quite normal, childhood and chaos chaos in the name of saving a dimension full of their trapped citizens, well that was no one’s business but their own. They now has a multitude of siblings and their clone and alternate self were apart of that number. Danny was content, happy and had a purpose. Something to protect. Sure they was salty about how they ended up here and the fought constantly with Dan but they loved them all, Eve their odd, paranoid and jumpy Father. ‘The man cared but was clearly much to stressed, maybe I should try and help him more?’

🤍🖤💚💙💚🖤🤍

@lightreader1

@skulld3mort-1fan

@dolfay

@akikkobara

@fisticuffsatapplebees

@thegatorsgoose

@phoenixdemonqueen

@theywontletmeusetheoneiwant

@thewondersoflebanon

@screamingtofillthevoid

@grimm-zorn 

@awkwardmaiden

@malice-of-the-sunrise

@meira-3919

@nerdypaintbrush

@igotafewbadideas

@ever-changing-weirdo-3100

@armybratz123

@krzys2000

@pike-s

@gunebugfic

@apointlessbox

What if when Damian was younger say 5-6 or so he demanded a little brother. After his Mother refuses Damian in a moment of child like wonder asks the Lazarus Pits for a baby brother.

And the pits listen?? It Spits out baby Danny who is wondering why he’s a baby and where he is now.

Then a 10 year old Damian shows up at the Wayne’s with a half-dead toddler.

[quirkless-accident]

Dungeons and Dragons

let's here it for drabble #100! Thank you so much for your support everybody! <33333

(also this may or may not be an excuse to write the mha fantasy au) (also not me rewriting this three times because I couldn't decide on what adventure I should take them on)

-----------

Danny yawned as he watched the sun rise over the horizon. He had decided to take first watch, but had unfortunately been too awake to fall asleep, so he decided to stay up with Midoriya, ever the early riser.

He had spent the entire shift scribbling away in his notebook. Not that Danny minded, of course. It was a nice background noise as daydreamed about what kind of treasure they might find on their journey.

As the sun rose, the others rose with it. Iida was the first, his movements slow and careful so he didn't accidentally hit any of the armor pieces he had taken off the night before. Next was Bakugou, who had thrown his red cape over his shoulders and marched off into the forest in search of their breakfast. Uraraka was woken by Kirishima's snoring, as well as the quiet chattering that happened as Danny started a fire to cook whatever Bakugou brought back. And when Bakugou returned, he kicked Kirishima in his side to wake him up, barking loudly at him at how it was unacceptable that he always rose so late, though the sun wasn't even fully over the horizon yet.

"So, just a recap," Kirishima said with a yawn, rubbing the back of his head. "We're going on this mission for what?"

"It's a rescue mission," Danny explained. "There's a town that's supposedly under a horrible spell by an evil necromancer, and we're supposed to free them."

"And after that, we're rich," Uraraka stated happily, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she adjusted her hat.

"But that's not the most important part," Midoriya said, snapping his notebook shut. He slipped it into his pack and adjusted the leather strap that sat across his chest.

"We need to hurry," Iida said, slipping his helmet on. He began untying their horses, and handing the reins to their respective owners. "The stories say he gets stronger at night."

---------

It was early evening when they finally reached the town. It was mostly deserted, with the remaining citizens running and hiding and their bright, colorful presence.

Kirishima tries to smile warmly at one of the townspeople, but they squeak in fright and slam the door in his face. Whoever had taken over this town had certainly done a number.

They do their best to stick to the shadows so they aren't seen by the Shadow's guard. They can't get caught before they get the chance to sneak into the castle. Hell, even Bakugou is quiet. He of all people understand the stakes.

This is his kingdom after all.

Or, at least, it was.

Bakugou took the lead since he knew the kingdom the best. He took them through backroads and alleyways. Through secret entrances and under taverns, until finally, a couple hours later, they were sneaking their way through the dungeons under the castle.

"Do you seriously have to wear armor for this trip?" Bakugou asks as Iida shifts uncomfortably. The clanking of his armor is loud, and he's sure that if the castle hadn't been mostly empty, they would have been caught already.

"How else am I going to protect myself?" Iida hisses. "Besides, as a knight I need to keep my armor on at all times."

"You took it off to sleep last night," Midoriya points out. Iida goes red and sputters out a, "w-well. I need to keep my armor on at all times unless I'm sleeping."

"Nice save," Danny whispers to him, snickering.

"We should probably keep moving," Midoriya points out. "The closer it gets to dusk, the harder it will be to beat this villain."

"Nerd's right," Bakugou huffs. "Let's go."

------------

The large double doors to the throne room open on their own. They can all feel the dark magic wafting off of it, though. Danny frowns as he grips his sword in one hand and his shield in the other.

The others have their weapons out, too. Uraraka has her wand, and Midoriya his own sword, though it looks ancient. Bakugou's hands are sparking with fire, and Kirishima has his battle axe at the ready. Iida has his own sword, gleaming in the firelight.

"Ah, you've come to kill me, have you?" A deep, dark voice says. In the very back, sitting on the throne is a dark figure with a bird-like head, concealed in dark clothing that helps him blend in with the shadows more. He looks at them lazily, almost uncaring, but they can all see the sharpness to his gaze.

"We won't have to if you just surrender now," Bakugou snarls. The figure rolls his eyes and gets off the throne. He moves slowly but with purpose, closer and closer still, before stopping at the foot of the stairs that lead up to the royal throne.

"Do you know who I am, boy?" He asks.

"You're Tsukuyomi," Midoriya says, voice hard. He's gripping his sword with both hands as his eyes scan the area around them, calculating.

"That I am," Tsukuyomi says. "The master of shadows, and the last thing you will see before you die."

That's all the warning they get before a large shadow creature launches itself out of the shadows and towards the group. Danny blocks the attack with his shield and swipes with his sword, making a shallow slash. Dark Shadow hisses with pain, but does not let up.

Uraraka is quick to help him, sending spell after spell towards the shadow creature. The light makes it weaker, they find, and Danny uses his own magic to use against the shadow.

Meanwhile, Bakugou and Kirishima lunge towards Tsukuyomi at the same time. Bakugou's hands spark while Kirishima is spitting fire. They manage to catch Tsukuyomi off guard as his cloak catches fire. He quickly sheds it, revealing pale muscled arms decorated in rings and bracelets. He lifts his hands, and they start to glow with a purple energy.

His attack misses Bakugou, but it hits Kirishima and sends him flying into Iida. They crash to the floor in a loud heap, followed by Kirishima's groaning. But Bakugou doesn't let them distract him, doesn't let up for even a second.

He sends another bright blast towards Tsukuyomi, who is blinded by the brightness. Iida, who has recovered from his tumble with Kirishima, moves faster than anybody thought possible, slashing his sword down Tsukuyomi's back.

Tsukuyomi cries out in pain as he falls to his knees. Blood drenches his clothes, and drips to the floor, but he still has some fight left in him. He makes a swipe for Iida, who just barely manages to dodge. It's enough of a distraction for Bakugou to kick Tsukuyomi in his side, sending him sprawling.

"I got this!" Uraraka tells Danny as the shadow is once again pushed back. "You go help them!"

Danny nods and runs off, narrowly avoiding an attack the shadow sends his way. When he reaches the others, he quickly helps Kirishima to his feet before returning to the fray.

Bakugou attacks once more, but Tsukuyomi sees it coming this time. He throws up a shield with his magic, and the blast bounces right off. But He's so distracted by Bakugou and his ferocity that he doesn't see Danny coming in behind him.

Without hesitation, he sends his sword through Tsukuyomi's back and out his chest, glowing with his own green magic. Tsukuyomi chokes on his blood, gargled and harsh. When Danny pulls his sword out, he falls to the floor, dead.

-----------

"You're all free!" Bakugou yells out at the crowd that's formed. "Tsukuyomi is dead! May we rebuild in peace, and keep moving forward! After all, it'll take more than a little dark magic to destroy us!"

The townspeople cheer, louder than they have in weeks. The sun is shining brightly above their heads, with not a dark cloud in sight. Bakugou's friends stand behind him, tall and proud as the crowd cheers them on.

----------

"And that looks like a good stopping point," Tucker says, closing his notebook. Around him, everybody but Bakugou whines.

"Dude, that was such a sick kill!" Kirishima says, clapping Danny on the shoulder. The dice tower Danny was in the middle of making gets knocked over with the movement, and Kirishima smiles at him apologetically.

"It was super satisfying," he nods in agreement. "Sorry about your character, Tokoyami," he ads, looking towards his friend.

"I was happy to become one with the darkness for one session," Tokoyami tells him with an amused glint in his eye. "It seems that even in fantasy, the light is too much for the shadows to handle."

"You killed us!" Dark Shadow whines, crossing their arms over their chest.

"You can make a new character if you ever decide you wanna play with us again," Uraraka points out. That seems to cheer Dark Shadow up, and Iida nods enthusiastically.

"You took my kill!" Bakugou yells at Danny angrily.

"Should have killed him faster," Danny shoots back with a shrug. But before Bakugou can lunge across the table to strangle Danny, Midoriya interrupts.

"That was so much fun! I have so many questions now! Do you mind if we hang out sometime this week so I can ask you?"

"I would love nothing more," Tucker says, stacking his notebooks and gathering his dice. "Now, I have to run to my dorm before curfew. Same time next week?"

"Yes, that should work," Iida tells him. Tucker nods, does a weird little handshake with Danny, and sprints out the doors of the 1-A dorms.

"So," Danny grins, "How's you like your first session of dungeons and dragons?"